


The Dragon and the Shadow

by eoan



Series: The Dragon and the Shadow [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bumbleby - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 153,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23144227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eoan/pseuds/eoan
Summary: Yang is a brilliant engineer just trying to leave her mark on the world. At least, that's her day job. At night she's known as the Dragon and frequently leaves her mark on the faces of those that challenge her in the ring. When a mysterious reporter chasing a perilous story asks for help she's all in, unsure if she's more attracted to the possibility of danger or the entrancing woman offering it.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Jaune Arc/Pyrrha Nikos, Lie Ren/Nora Valkyrie, Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Series: The Dragon and the Shadow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941424
Comments: 107
Kudos: 265





	1. Enter the Dragon

“All right everyone, it’s time for the match we’re all here to see!”

The man with the microphone grinned savagely, almost leering at the crowd that had gathered to watch the contest. Sometimes it was under an out-of-the-way overpass, sometimes in a parking garage or particularly large cellar, often like tonight it was in an old warehouse, but always the layout was the same: hastily built risers, standing room only, surrounding a platform covered in canvas, lined with chain link fence and doused in lights erected or hung as necessary to ensure that everyone could see the action. In the middle of it all stood Roman. Roman Torchwick to his associates, but the ring was a first names only affair. Tall, lean, sharply dressed in his white coat and immaculate bowler hat and sporting his signature cane, Roman didn’t exactly look like the type to run an underground fight ring, but somehow he pulled it off. More than pulled it off, in truth. Despite his appearance and the fact that no one present had ever actually seen him throw a punch it was never doubted that he could handle himself. Crafting an image was a talent that Roman had honed to a fine edge in his many years of shady dealings, and he loved any opportunity to let that talent shine.

The growing rumble from the crowd told his seasoned ear that the dramatic pause had accomplished its goal, so he continued. “Tonight’s challenger comes to us all the way from Anima,” he knew for a fact that he was a local thug unlikely to have traveled further than the nearest liquor store most of his life, but sometimes a few embellishments were necessary. “and has left a trail of blood from Mistral to our very own city of Vale in search of a worthy challenge.” The length of said trail may have been overstated but not necessarily the amount, Brothers knew this man could throw down. “I’ve no way to know how many fighters he has actually decimated, but with my own eyes, I’ve seen him go an impressive 15-0, all by way of knockout or death,” again a slight exaggeration. He had seen the man fight on only 8 occasions, but it seemed reasonable he had been in plenty more. The fights he had witnessed had all ended in knockout and one of his challengers had, in fact, died of a brain bleed days later, at least that was the word on the street. Close enough. Death was pretty rare, even in the underground circuit, but the crowd loved the fact that it wasn’t totally out of the question. Those promoting the fights liked to talk about it but always preferred avoiding it. Death drew attention from the authorities, not to mention had a way of discouraging prospective talent. Much better for a beaten fighter to live and take a few months off so the crowd would forget them before coming back with a new nickname and a fresh record.

“Please welcome, the Beast from the East, the Bipedal Bear: Kodiak Jack!” The shouts and jeers filled the room as the announcer trailed off and the man in question entered the ring. True to his nickname Jack was enormous, closer to seven feet than six, broad-shouldered and visibly muscled despite copious amounts of thick brown body hair. If it had been revealed to the room that one of his parents was of the genus Ursa it is unlikely anyone would have batted an eye. The mountainous figure was clad in a tank top, jeans, and combat boots, exactly as he had been when he entered the building from the street. Not so much as a scrap of tape on his hands, so many assumed he was a grappler. Roman knew better though. Jack’s knuckles were knobby and misshapen and he had personally seen him knock teeth out and break jaws with his bare hands. The man simply didn’t care about pain or his own well being and knew that he could more easily score a KO with nothing between his fists and his opponent’s face. It was a good short-term strategy, but no matter how tough he thought he was a man can only break his hands so many times before they become useless. Not that it mattered tonight, the Kodiak’s paws looked ready to do some damage to the champ he had been called in to face.

“And now, your defending champion, the King of the Ring for the better part of a year, coming in with an unprecedented record of 33-0, all by way of knockout, including an incredible 20 title defenses,” he said, pausing as the fans roared their approval. He couldn’t help but admire the little shit he was introducing, but damn he was hoping Jack could pull off an upset. Fortunately, the usually fickle crowd had yet to tire of this champ like they had previous ones, and he could already see them craning their necks to catch a glimpse of their hero approaching from the shadows. There was no helping it, the only way to unseat a champ was by beating a champ, and this one seemed nigh untouchable. As long as the chumps kept paying to watch that was a problem for another day.

“With a right hook that should be outlawed in every kingdom,” Roman added with a meaningful look at Jack, hoping the big man would take the freely given hint. It was clear, however, that the challenger was barely paying attention. Roman rolled his eyes and continued, if the moron wouldn’t listen that was on him, he was the one would be sporting a nasty concussion tomorrow. “And a stare that would cow the God of Destruction himself. Welcome back to the ring once again the undefeated firebrand with fists of stone and nerves of steel: Yang, the Dragon!”

At this the crowd went absolutely hysterical, cheering as the woman entered the ring. The few who were booing were in Jack’s corner and were easily drowned out by the rest as the champ walked in. At 5’9” she wasn’t short, but facing off against Jack it was clear that she was far from impressively tall. Most spectators and challengers guessed that she weighed in around 150 lean pounds, but Roman figured that was missing at least 20 more of muscle. Then again, most people never looked much past the blonde hair, lilac eyes, and...generous proportions. Those few who did saw the way she held herself, the smooth but significant play of muscle as she swaggered into the ring and waved to the crowd. It’s not like she was working hard to hide those muscles either. As usual, she wore a sports bra and spandex shorts, well aware of the effect this had on her mostly male competitors, and smirked as she saw it was having that exact impact on Jack. She threw him a wink and blew him a kiss with her golden clad hands. Unlike him, she wore tape and light, fingerless gloves on her fists and sported tape on her otherwise bare feet. At first, people had taken that for weakness, but those who paid attention soon saw that it was as calculated as everything else about her look. It made her look soft, but in reality, it was exactly what was needed to enable her to bash in someone’s face without hurting herself, thereby letting her repeat the activity week after week while others took significant damage even when they won. Her real secret, in Roman’s none too humble opinion, was her mouthguard. No one else who fought there wore one and most people thought she only did to protect her perfect teeth. That it was a vanity thing. They didn’t realize that its real purpose was to protect her from concussions, which gave her yet another small but very real edge. 

Roman shook his head. He generally preferred champs to come and go. It made it easier to attract new fighters and build hype, and hype meant money. But despite his best efforts to stack the deck he just couldn’t find anyone talented or, frankly, smart enough to beat this girl. He couldn’t deny that she knew how to put on a show, so there was that at least. The fact that everyone she fought was bigger and stronger than her meant that she usually had to do something pretty outrageous to take them down. It was like David and Goliath the first night she strode into the ring, and in a way it still was. The difference was it was no longer clear who was who.

“All right, you know the deal but just a reminder: the fight will consist of an unlimited number of 5-minute rounds with 2 minutes in between each. You fight until the bell and stop when it sounds. Attack after the bell you get a warning, two warnings and you're disqualified. Otherwise, no rules. The fight will continue until one of you quits, submits, or is incapacitated. Do you understand?”

Finished with his spiel he looked at the big man, who nodded his head a fraction of an inch and grunted his approval. The look in his eyes as he stared down his opponent was both amused and hungry, like a predator staring at an easy meal. Roman hoped the man was right.  But he certainly wasn’t going to bet on it.

He looked over at Yang, and the young woman gave him that infuriatingly knowing smile of hers and a wink. Gods he was tired of her cheek, but until someone could put her in her place he was stuck with it.

“Ok, back to your corners, when the bell sounds, come out fighting.”

With that he strode out of the ring, twirling his cane jauntily as he went. No refs inside for these matches, no reason to put someone at risk when there wasn’t much reffing to do anyway. On his way, he passed by Jack and issued a quiet warning.

“Word of advice: don’t touch her hair.”

Jack sneered down at him. “What happened to no rules?”

“Oh it’s not against the rules, it’s just a great way to guarantee you’ll need reconstructive surgery.”

The gate closed behind him and he heard another version of what they all said when he warned them: “I’m not afraid of some little bimbo.”

Roman sighed and shook his head at the poor dope. Someday he would find a fighter who would actually listen.

What a day that would be.

As the ring was closed and locked, Yang sized up her opponent. The moments before the first bell were some of her favorites. That was when the rest of the world fell away and her awareness closed in along with the lights to encompass only the ring itself. As it did she felt an energy flowing through her veins, a raw unadulterated power that whispered to her of aggression and violence but above all else freedom. It was a feeling she cherished even more than the feeling of victory, and it was a feeling she had never managed to replicate anywhere else in her life. She stood upright but at ease, basking in the glow of the fire igniting within her, confidence oozing out of every pore as she offered a flirtatious smirk and a cocked hip to the challenger across the ring, and laughed to herself as she saw that he found her display as distracting as they always did. 

As her reputation spread it was getting harder to find people who hadn’t heard of her or had and were still willing to try for her title. Yet somehow they did find them, and it never failed to tickle Yang as she saw the assumptions in their eyes. Thoughts of how easily they would beat her, break her even, seemed to run through their minds as they practically salivated. They never seemed to stop to consider the fact that she was champion for a reason. Idiots. Not that it bothered her, it gave her an edge and she was used to being misunderstood and underestimated based on her appearance. May as well take advantage of it.

The bell sounded and Jack fell into a grappler’s stance, crouched with hands open and reaching. Not a complete moron then, but Yang could see through the ruse. No doubt he could finish the fight if he grabbed her, given his size and strength, but the scars and bumps on his knuckles told the story of a brawler, someone more than comfortable using his fists. She strode at him, hands down and smiling like her only concern in the world was what shade of lipstick to wear on the way to a club. As though she were just out on the town like all her friends thought she was on fight nights. Jack took the bait hook, line, and sinker and dropped his act immediately, standing up straighter and firing off a cross with his right. Yang had to fight the urge to sigh, big guys always thought they could end things with one power shot. They were always wrong. Rather than his knuckles burying themselves into the bridge of her nose, as intended, Jack found himself thrown off balance as his fist met nothing but air. Yang had slipped left, letting herself fall into a southpaw stance that frustrated righties like the beast across from her and unleashed a left hook directly into his liver.

She weaved his follow up shot and moved out of range. Liver shots took a second to sink in, but once they did people usually went down. Moving evasively for a couple more seconds Yang looked for the telltale signs and was surprised when they never came. Either she had missed or that solid feeling she had encountered as she landed meant he had unreasonably strong abs. Despite herself, she was happy he hadn’t gone down quite so easily. She moved back in, hands up this time, hoping that he might make it a fight after all.

Soon the bell sounded and the fighters stood down. Jack’s cocksure smile was gone but Yang saw a look she didn’t like. Not many got out of the first round unscathed with her, and this guy had not only easily absorbed several solid shots he had also managed to tag her once or twice himself. The game was up, she couldn’t count on him underestimating her anymore. Now she had to fight him in earnest. She returned to her corner and nodded for her water. No cornerman for her, no one knew about her nighttime activities and she had never needed anyone to tell her how to fight anyway. One of the ringside security men handed her the bottle and she rinsed her mouth out, spitting in the vague direction of a bucket down on the floor. She wiped her brow and waited.

As the second round started both fighters entered in a boxing stance, dropping their tricks and games and looking like they meant business. Yang circled the big man, keeping her left hand back and moving constantly to her right. The idea was to keep herself away from his power hand while trying to slip into his blindspot to open up attacks of her own. After a few probing leg kicks and one or two body shots, she started to fully appreciate just how strong the man was. Normally she could cause someone to falter or slow when she battered them like this. Despite not being huge herself Yang was extraordinarily powerful, and frequently brought large men to their knees either with a well-placed kick or punch to the body. Not so with this giant, he seemed to absorb everything without even noticing, and Yang was worried she would either run out of stamina or make a mistake and leave herself open before she managed to take him down. No amount of skill or training could keep her conscious if someone his size caught her cleanly.

That meant she would have to find a way to go for the head. His height made that an obvious issue, but it was just another problem to be solved. So far he hadn’t shown enough speed to worry her. Even as he started to learn her rhythm Yang was having no problem slipping and rolling his ferocious punches.

The fight went on that way for a few more rounds; Yang weaving in through a rain of blows from the massive man’s paws, landing several stinging strikes of her own, bouncing back outside of his range, assessing the damage, seeing little. After every round, she was breathing harder and harder, and though the big man was showing signs of fatigue, it was too little, too late. She wasn’t one to give up hope but even she had to admit things weren’t looking great.

Deep in the sixth round, Yang could feel her heart pounding and ribs aching with each breath. Normally fatigue took longer to set in but the constant need to move outside of Jack’s range was wearing on her. She couldn’t even slow down and absorb his punches to rest. She had tried that once and spent the break between the fourth and fifth rounds with blurred vision. She knew she was quickly approaching the now or never moment, and tried to gather herself to throw something that could topple the behemoth before her. Just as she was doing so Jack changed his tactics, reaching out clumsily to grab her. He had finally realized that all of his punching power counted for little if he couldn’t hit her, and this move of desperation revealed to Yang that he had simply been hiding the fact that he was nearing the end of his rope as well.

Sloppy as it was the move was so unexpected it very nearly worked, and Yang was only just able to move out of his reach. Rather than let him see how close he had been to victory Yang mocked the man with a bravado she didn’t totally feel. “Jeez, where did you learn to fight? You couldn’t hit the broad side of a...” she said, trailing off as she looked at his massive hand, which was clutching a few strands of long golden hair.

Jack looked down to see what she was staring at and raised his head to laugh. Maybe it was petty, but he was glad to have finally gotten a piece of the pest who had been stinging him like a persistent wasp all night. Before the laugh could cross his lips he saw the look in her eyes and nearly choked. It was a look other opponents had seen, but could never fully explain beyond whispering that there was something off about the Dragon. Jack hadn’t heard those whispers, but if he had he would have been the first to confirm that they were true. He could swear her lilac eyes had gone red, and there was a fury in those crimson discs that was completely at odds with the carefree smirk he had been greeted with all night. The effect was enhanced by what he assumed was a trick of the light: to his eyes, it appeared as though she was glowing, almost as if she was on fire. The demon before him shook her head, almost piteously, and growled, “Now you’re fucked.”

As he tried to blink the terrifying image away the Dragon pounced, all fatigue apparently forgotten. She weaved in with reckless abandon and drew a hard but desperate swing from the Bear, and like so many others that night his punch only managed to touch air that had been slightly warmed by the passage of his target. Too late it occurred to him that these weaves weren’t meant to be defensive but rather were winding up a series of punches that carried every ounce of force the smaller fighter’s body could generate, starting and ending with a devastating right hook. The next day Jack would realize that he had, in fact, been warned about that punch and as he iced his throbbing head he would no doubt wish he had listened when it mattered. He wasn’t sure if it was the perfect form or if the fiery woman had found some untapped reserve of power, but each blow landed like a shotgun blast and the last one drove him hard from his feet down to the canvas. As his eyes shut and the world faded away he had one last glimpse of that terrible burning figure standing over him, and then his grasp on consciousness released.

He wasn’t awake long enough to hear the crowd go silent at the sight of such a ferocious onslaught. He wasn’t even stirred when, a moment later, they erupted into thunderous cheers. This was what the people came to see. They weren’t there to watch a schooled fighter picking apart her opponents. It was the moment when that calm gave way to the berserk fury that they paid to witness. It was like watching the destruction wrought by a tornado or the ferocity of the ocean in a storm. She was a force of nature, and it was as beautiful as it was terrifying to watch her unleash her might.

Anger evaporating, Yang waited for Roman to re-enter the ring. By the time he did, he was greeted with nothing but a smug smile at his obvious disappointment. It was no secret he was tired of her, but she didn’t care and had seemed to enjoy his growing dislike, even if it did mean he was going out of his way to find more and more dangerous fighters for her to face. Putting his personal feelings aside he held her hand in the air and went through the usual victory declaration. The victor, however, was hardly listening, thinking instead about how she would tend to and cover her various injuries so her friends were none the wiser when she got home, and of the various banalities of life that awaited her there. As she lazily scanned the crowd a flash of familiar black and gold snapped her back to the present. She narrowed her eyes and tried to find its source but she couldn’t make out any details among the bodies and shadows. She shook her head, hoping she hadn’t taken a harder shot than she realized and knocked a few brain cells loose.

It would be hard to work on her Ph.D. project if she was knocked silly, after all.


	2. Just a Day in the Life

**2 days earlier** **  
**

Yang felt a jolt of excitement that was promptly doused by a wave of fear. “Are you sure an interview is a good idea, professor? There are so many other projects that are further along and-”

“Yang, you always doubt how important your work is. Sure you’ve hit a bit of a snag, but if you can work out the details this could be huge.” 

Pietro Polendina was a genius and visionary, yet still felt his life’s real work was encouraging the next generation of scientists. When he had accepted a position at Beacon after years of heading up AI and cybernetics research in Atlas people had come out of the woodwork to ask him to mentor them. He had accepted as many as he could but had to turn even more away. Some days Yang wasn’t sure why he had picked her to work in his lab given how many were vying for the position. She had only mustered the nerve to ask in the first place because Pyrrha had threatened to do it for her otherwise. She was so used to people underestimating her intelligence that it still surprised her how enthusiastically he had agreed to take her on, and how often he praised her work. 

“I don’t know professor, I still think it should be someone else. Pyrrha’s work in computer vision has been so promising, and that’s not even mentioning the advances you’ve made recently.”

“Yang, please. I’ve had more than enough publicity to last a lifetime, and besides, this reporter asked for you specifically. She thinks that your work on peripheral neural interfaces could not only revolutionize the field, it could change lives across Remnant, and I happen to agree on both counts.”

Yang was blown away hearing her work framed in such a grandiose way by both her mentor and this unknown reporter. It was true that what she was doing was meant to help people, but the fact that she had stumbled into it like she seemed to stumble into everything had made it feel somehow unimportant. She wanted to do good and she happened to have some talent in the relatively new field of bioengineering, that was about all there was to say. The prospect of a reporter asking her questions felt less like an interview and more like an interrogation, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was going to be found out as a fraud. It occurred to her that it didn’t seem totally rational that the prospect of a person asking her a few questions had her on the verge of a panic attack while she was very much looking forward to being locked in a cage with someone who was trying to do her physical harm, yet there was no denying either. 

Her wandering thoughts were interrupted by the professor’s chuckle as his chair maneuvered deftly towards the door. While the device was a familiar sight around the lab it was also a miracle of engineering. Dr. Polendina had designed it himself years ago when he was confined to a wheelchair after a car crash and had finally perfected it. Rather than wheels, it had four independent legs, which were partly controlled by an onboard AI and partly by the neural chip implanted in his brain. After countless hours of practice and numerous improvements, the device moved with a fluidity and purpose that was a marvel to Yang. But it was its size and bulk that had inspired her to go a different route. Much to her initial surprise, it didn’t bother Pietro that she wasn’t following his lead, quite the opposite actually. He always said he wasn’t interested in people who merely wanted to copy him; he wanted freethinkers capable of solving new and interesting problems their own way, and that was Yang in spades. She just didn’t give herself enough credit in his opinion.

“Don’t look so frightened, where’s that livewire who convinced me that her crazy idea was the way of the future? Do the interview, it will be good for you. If it helps, you can consider it an official assignment. The reporter will come by the lab tomorrow morning.”

Dr. Polendina didn’t wait for a response as his chair strode out of the lab, leaving Yang alone with her scattered thoughts and unfinished work.

\--

After a few fruitless hours, she made her way to the gym. Two days pre-fight she wasn’t going to spar or overwork herself, but she wanted to hit the bags for a while to clear her head and keep herself loose. Luckily the campus gym was surprisingly well equipped so she didn’t have to go far when she just wanted to work up a sweat. After changing and stretching she made her way over to the heavy bags where Pyrrha was already hard at work and dripping with sweat. As she wrapped her hands Yang watched, awed as always at her friend’s skill. Every move, every kick, every combination executed to crisp perfection. Pyrrha had started out as a gymnast, talented no doubt, but switched to Taekwondo after she grew too tall. Before coming to Beacon she had won more than a few kingdom-wide competitions and had even competed at worlds before giving it up to focus on college and eventually grad school. Every move she made was fluid and graceful and powerful, and even after years out of the ring (despite numerous attempts on Yang’s part to get her back in) Pyrrha could likely still hold her own against anyone. To be beautiful and brilliant on top of that was more than a little unfair, but the fact that she was possibly the most genuinely friendly person in all of Remnant meant that no one could hate the statuesque redhead.

“Are you going to train or just keep staring?” Pyrrha asked between kicks, never taking her eyes off the bag. Yang smiled and put her gloves on, velcroing the second with her teeth.

“Sorry, just trying to learn from the best, you know my kicks could use some work.”

“I’m certainly not going to argue that point, but you really don’t need to focus quite so hard on my butt,” she remarked dryly, drawing a burst of laughter from Yang, who wasn’t about to deny that her eyes had wandered a bit but knew her friend was just teasing her.

“Oh come on Pyrrha,” Yang said, her tone dripping with innocence, “that’s like asking someone not to look at a piece of art or the sunset.”

Pyrrha snorted but didn’t reply, preferring to focus on the flurry of kicks she was delivering with shocking speed and ferocity on the helpless bag in front of her. 

“You know, I might spend less time ogling your shapely backside if you would actually spar me now and then.” 

Yang knew what the response would be before it came but always hoped for something different. She thought maybe someday she could tell Pyrrha about her secret hobby, but as usual, she was quickly disabused of that notion as her friend stopped to look at her earnestly.

“Yang, I don’t fight anymore, you know that. My head needs to be squarely on my shoulders so I can focus on my work, as does yours. I hope you haven’t been going too hard at those fighting gyms you frequent across town, I don’t want you to damage that wonderful brain of yours doing something reckless.”

From anyone else such a lecture would have angered Yang, especially given how often it came up, but not Pyrrha. Something about the way she spoke, always from the heart, allowed her to express her worry and concern for her friend without ever nagging or patronizing. Faced with that Yang couldn’t muster any anger, and instead felt only guilt. She didn’t like hiding her other life from anyone but with Pyrrha, it was worse than just lying; it felt like she wasn’t living up to some amazing potential her friend saw in her. Besides, she had been a fighter too, so the fact that she was against it made it all the more difficult to justify. 

Yang couldn’t understand how Pyrrha had just walked away like she had. The fact that she couldn’t even fathom doing the same herself made her fear she was somehow broken; incapable of growing up and moving on like others. She knew her work was important, she did, and she liked tackling the challenges it posed. But it never made her feel alive like fighting, never set every fiber of her being alight like the ring. She knew the tension between her lives wasn’t sustainable, but she always fell back on the excuse that her fighting career wouldn’t last forever. Someday she would either lose or simply get too beaten up to keep doing it. It was a risk, but other than a small voice of reason that she generally ignored she was sure that nothing would happen in the ring that was bad enough to affect her life outside of it. The smart thing to do might be to stop before that anything happened, but Yang just didn’t have it in her to hang up the gloves while she still had that fire in her soul waiting to be unleashed.

She exhaled, willing the storm of conflicting emotions to follow her breath, and started warming up.

“I’m careful,” she said.

“Yang, you are many things, but careful is not one of them. What you are is tough. Too tough for your own good sometimes. That’s why I worry.” Pyrrha said, concern flowing from her emerald eyes for a moment before a hint of levity found its way in. “Well, that and the fact that your roundhouse kicks are kind of weak, I worry because of that too,” she said with mock sincerity.

Yang laughed and rolled her eyes. Her kicks were fine, more than fine, just not nearly as devastating as her punches. By anyone else’s standards, her form would be considered perfect but Pyrrha’s roundhouse looked like it had been designed in a lab to destroy skulls, so she could get away with all the shit talk in the world. 

“I’ll be sure to work on that, thanks” Yang snarked.

“Do. I’m about to head out, Jaune is volunteering with the Big Brothers Big Sisters organization this evening so I’m on dinner duty.”

“Does that guy know how good he has it?”

“He does, I assure you. We both do.”

As usual, Pyrrha got that dreamy look on her face at the mention of Jaune. It should have been sickening, but something about their love was so pure and true that it was almost contagious. Back in college, everyone had questioned the choice of Pyrrha, a goddess amongst mortals and a perfect student, dating the scraggly misfit. Over the course of those four years, they had all been proven wrong as Jaune grew into a hardworking and caring man, and above all else a good person. After majoring in sociology he was now deep into his studies at Law School with plans to be a civil rights lawyer and spent what free time he had volunteering with underprivileged youths. Between all of that and a haircut, everyone had come to see what Pyrrha had seen all along. Her knack for spotting the best in people had certainly paid off with her fiance.

Yang waved to her friend as she glided off to the showers and started working the bag more purposefully, her earlier misgivings about the interview worming their way back into her thoughts. Sure her work had potential, but given the numerous problems she was running into it was still largely theoretical. Besides, what if the reporter dug deeper? What if they asked how she got into the field? What would she say?

“Well, I dunno I was always good at math and science so I applied to the engineering college at Beacon. Things went pretty well there and biomedical engineering and robotics seemed kind of neat so I played around in those labs and Professor Polendina took pity on me and took me in...”

Yang punctuated her growing frustration with herself with a particularly nasty hook that landed so hard she felt the impact reverberate down her spine. As usual, when she started getting worked up her vision had gone vaguely red and her strikes started landing with increasing force, almost more than her body could tolerate. She shook her hand out and waited for her vision to return to normal, this was no time to injure herself and it certainly wasn’t a time for self-pity. So she never had a grand plan or a driving vision. So what? Maybe she didn’t have Pyrrha’s focus or Jaune’s selflessness or the freakish work ethic and lifelong passion of her little sister. 

Yang had always been so proud of Ruby, but it was hard not to feel somewhat defective when she compared herself to the girl she had practically raised. Ruby had known since she was a little kid that she wanted to be a surgeon, just like her long-dead mother and idol had been. She studied so hard she even entered university at the same time as Yang, two years ahead of schedule. That should have been difficult, it should have slowed her down, but Ruby never missed a beat. Sure she was always the kid in their group but she was also the one who scheduled study sessions and even set up the chore wheel in their apartment. She was kind of a doofus otherwise but when it came to following her dream she was all business. That same focus that had carried her easily through college now had her crushing her way through med school. Not only was she at the top of her class but she was also publishing papers and volunteering in clinics on the side. Ruby was the type of person to get interviewed, not Yang. Wouldn’t they want to talk to someone with a plan, a dream? Someone who was on a path they had laid out intentionally rather than just finding their way into things by mistake?

Yang liked fixing things, that was really all there was to it. It had started with toys and eventually moved up to things around the house and then eventually her first dirt bike. She had considered becoming a mechanic but her father had encouraged her to go to college first, to expand her horizons. The first class to really grab her was robotics, but things didn’t really start coming together until she saw how her aptitude for fixing mechanical things could be used to help people. She briefly thought about following her little sister into medicine but decided to stick with the engineering side where she was more comfortable. That wasn’t a narrative, it didn’t have the beats of a compelling story. It was just dumb luck carrying her along and kindly depositing her somewhere good. It just as easily could have gone another way.

The only thing she had ever felt like she chose was fighting. Ever since taking that first boxing class as a kid she rarely felt settled unless she was hitting something, and no matter how busy she had been with school or part-time jobs or raising Ruby she had always found time to pursue her interest in martial arts. Not that she had intended to pursue it all the way to a somewhat-less-than-legal underground fighting ring, that was just another thing she had stumbled into. Regardless, it still felt more real, more like it belonged to her than any of her work in the lab. Unfortunately, that story wasn’t exactly useful in this case. What would she tell this reporter? “Yeah I love working on technology that could revolutionize prosthetics but my REAL passion is trading headshots with criminals in abandoned construction sites.”

With a grunt, Yang landed one more punch and called it. The bag didn’t hold any of the answers she was looking for and she really needed to rest up for the weekend. Luckily it was Weiss’s night to cook. Not that Weiss was a particularly good cook but it did mean that Yang would have a much-needed distraction watching her overcomplicate basic food prep. Despite being a far cry from the spoiled heiress who had shown up at Beacon years ago, Weiss still struggled somewhat with the more mundane aspects of life, much to her friends’ amusement.

The shouting that greeted her when she arrived home confirmed her suspicion and Yang made her way through the living room toward the back of the house to watch the show.

“Not like that you dolt! The roux needs to be smooth!”

Apparently, Ruby was home early for once and had been put on sous chef duty. Weiss always felt more comfortable with someone to give orders to in the kitchen, and everywhere else for that matter, and Ruby tended to tolerate her better than most. Yang chuckled to herself as she set her things down and strolled over to the kitchen counter to watch the show.

“Ok Weiss, and how should I keep it smooth?” Ruby asked, looking uncertainly at a pot with some sort of brown, lumpy paste in it that was clearly starting to burn.

“It...you...just, you know, stir it...” Weiss trailed off as she furiously swiped through her scroll, trying to reread how to make the bechamel sauce for the souffle she was so certain her home chef had claimed was foolproof and she was finding to be anything but.

“Here! It needs to look like this!” she exclaimed, frantically waving her scroll in her assistant’s face.

“Sure, but how do I make it look like that?” Ruby asked, looking dizzy as she did her best to follow the moving screen.

Weiss tried to muster her bravado but even she could tell she was beaten. “I have no idea,” she admitted, shoulders slumping. Turning, she noticed Yang. “Yang! Finally some real help. Ruby is ruining the roux, can you fix it?” she pleaded, her eyes hopeful.

“Weiss, even if I could fix it at this point, and I definitely can’t, based on the amount of smoke coming from it, I wouldn’t. You need to stop trying to emulate your family’s professional cooking staff and stick to the basics.” Yang said, rolling her eyes fondly as she dug in her pocket for her scroll. “I will, however, order pizza.” Entertainment was one thing, but she needed food.

“You” Weiss started brusquely, but then thought better of it, softening a bit and showing just how different she was from the emotionally distant brat who showed up at university for the first time with her personal driver (the Vale driver, her primary driver was in Atlas, obviously). “I’m sorry. I was hoping to make something nice for all of us. It’s not often that all three of us are home for dinner these days, and with Pyrrha living with Jaune now the place feels kind of empty sometimes. Sort of reminds me of, well, home.”

In that moment the confident and domineering woman was gone, and in her place stood a sad and lonely girl. While it warmed Yang’s heart that her friend was willing to be so vulnerable with them it still enraged her that she had suffered so much in her childhood home; a place that should have been full of love and family but was as cold and empty as the tundra it floated above.

Ruby turned off the burner and leaned on her shoulder, intertwining their arms. “Weiss, I know we’re all busy, but we’re still friends.” Ruby looked at Weiss with her big silver eyes, “Still family. And we’re not going anywhere.”

Weiss gave her a squeeze in return and took a steadying breath. “I know, I’m sorry for getting so emotional over nothing, it’s just been a long...gosh I guess a long couple of years. Basically, since graduation, everything has just felt like it’s moving so fast.” She patted the arm Ruby had threaded through her own and moved away to start tossing pots and pans in the sink to soak, tacitly acknowledging that the substances coating them would likely not come off without a fight at this point.

“Heh, you can say that again,” Ruby said, a look of relief in her eyes as Weiss’s mood lifted. “Although we all sort of did this to ourselves. You probably wouldn’t feel so busy if you weren’t getting a law degree and an MBA simultaneously.”

“I need both of those degrees if I’m going to take my company back from my father. I know for a fact that he’s been doing shady things for years, and I’m going to expose him for the fraud he is. Assuming I don’t die of sleep deprivation in the meantime.” Weiss’s mission was known to all of them, but she needed to say it out loud sometimes for it to feel real given it was likely to take years to accomplish. 

“You don’t have to do it alone Weiss, and you certainly don’t have to do it all at once. You need to remember to stop and enjoy life from time to time.” Ruby’s tone had dropped all teasing in favor of her more usual earnestness.

Yang looked incredulously at her overachieving little sister. “You’re one to talk Ruby. When’s the last time you took a break? That reminds me, why are you home so early tonight? I thought third year was supposed to be super busy.”

“Oh yeah, I’m on radiology this month. We all call it radi-holiday.” Ruby presented this last bit like a punchline to a hilarious joke, looking back and forth for a reaction. Weiss audibly groaned and even Yang looked vaguely pained.

“Pretty sure all that time in the cadaver lab has ruined your sense of humor.” Yang tousled her sister’s hair as she headed back to the living room for some much-needed sofa time. “Pizza’s ordered, by the way, I just got what we had last time Weiss was overcome by hubris”

The muffled “Hey!” from the kitchen felt just like old times and drew a hearty laugh from the blonde as she plopped down on the big couch. She had to admit though, Weiss was right, as she so often was. They had all been so busy lately that despite their best efforts it felt more and more like they had to steal time to hang out. All of them home with no work to be done on a Thursday night was a rare blessing, and Yang sighed contentedly as her friend and sister came and joined her on their sagging but exceedingly comfortable sofa.

Weiss lay back, looking simultaneously poised yet relaxed. Even after years of watching her do it, Yang had no idea how she struck that balance. Ruby, meanwhile, flopped down without a hint of grace and draped her legs across Yang’s lap. 

“If you’re done ragging on the try-hards, how about you update us on your work. Any developments?” she asked eagerly.

Yang’s mood dampened immediately. “No, I’m still stuck. It all works in theory, but I keep hitting dead ends when I try to make it work in practice. I’m starting to worry that I’ve wasted my time.” Speaking her fear out loud made her feel even worse about her situation than before. “Maybe it’s time to think about a new project, or just getting a job. A lot of companies would hire someone with my skills...”

“Yang Xiao Long, stop talking nonsense this instant.” Yang’s head snapped up at the sharp tone and perfect diction Weiss reserved for legal arguments and anyone who irritated her. “Your work is too important to abandon and you’re too smart to just drop it because things got a little difficult.” 

Yang looked fondly over at her fierce but diminutive friend, who somehow was looking down her nose at her despite needing to look up to make eye contact. It was a talent Weiss had that Yang had always envied; that and her ability to raise someone’s spirits by explaining to them how wrong they were. Only Weiss would attempt to cheer someone up by scolding them, but Yang had to admit it was sort of working.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right away Yang, you’ll figure this out,” Ruby said, taking a much gentler approach. Despite them being peers at this point Ruby still looked at Yang like a superhero sometimes, like she could overcome any obstacle. It should have made her feel better, but she felt anything but super at that moment.

Yang’s shoulders drooped as she remembered what had put her in a bad mood in the first place. “Well I better have some answers, apparently some reporter is coming tomorrow to interview me about my work. I’m more than a little worried that they’re going to feel like they wasted their time,” she said quietly.

Before her friends could reassure her they were interrupted by the arrival of pizza. By the time they had scrambled for Lien, paid the familiar delivery guy, and resettled on the couch the moment had passed. Not wanting to revisit the topic Yang suggested they watch a movie. She knew that doing so would start an argument (heated discussion, Ruby would say) about what to watch that would take so long they would eventually give up and watch a cooking show, and that was precisely what happened.

Ruby, eternally exhausted as she was from her studies, passed out midway through the third episode. Once it had ended Yang and Weiss silently went about cleaning up pizza boxes and plates, careful not disturb her. In the kitchen, Weiss reached out and stopped Yang with a light touch on her shoulder. 

“Yang, no one who has spent time with you has ever felt like that time was wasted,” she said softly, letting the moment hang for a beat before letting her hand drop and returning to cleaning, humming melodically as she went. Yang was struck yet again by the amazing woman, amazing friend, the seemingly detached ice queen had become, and how lucky she was to have her.

Recovery efforts were made in the kitchen, but the disaster that had befallen it earlier clearly necessitated a multipart cleanup. After giving it their best and agreeing the rest could wait they made their way back to the living room to head upstairs for bed. On the way they stopped by the couch, looking fondly down at the sprawled out and lightly snoring form on the couch. Yang stole a glance at Weiss, and even in the dimly lit living room could make out the soft look that she reserved only for Ruby, and only when she thought no one could see. Ruby had been the one that insisted they included Weiss in the early days, despite everyone, including Weiss herself, protesting. It was little surprise that it was also Ruby who later managed to draw Weiss out of her cold shell. Although that was probably enough to explain the special fondness Yang often saw between them, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more.

“Should we wake her, or just leave her here?” Weiss asked softly, reaching questioningly for the throw blanket on the back of the couch.

“Neither, she needs to sleep in her bed. I’ve got her.” Yang said, reaching down to scoop up her sister like she had so many times before.

Weiss nodded with a small smile. “Fair enough. Goodnight Yang.”

Yang looked up from her bundled sister, feeling content in a way she only really did when she was taking care of someone. “Goodnight Weiss. And thank you, really.”

The smaller woman smiled and padded silently and elegantly up the stairs to where their bedrooms were. Yang followed slowly, careful not to disturb her slumbering sister as she delivered her gently to bed, knowing she was unlikely to get much rest herself that evening.


	3. Defying Expectations

The next morning Yang struggled out of bed at the third sounding of her alarm and despite bleary eyes and unsteady hands, she managed to only sustain minor burns while making coffee and filling her thermos to the brim. She threw on her usual work outfit of a t-shirt and jeans, took one look in the mirror, and thanked the Brothers for whoever invented makeup before doing her best to hide the serious bags her eyes were sporting. Cursing as she checked the time she ran her fingers through her hair until it looked somewhat reasonable, grabbed her leather jacket and riding boots, and ran outside. Moments later she thudded back through the door for her thermos, clutching it like a life preserver at sea, and bolted back out.

Despite her crushing fatigue, the trip to campus through the crisp fall air was invigorating. Riding her motorcycle, affectionately named Bumblebee for its yellow and black paint job, had a way of making Yang feel light and free, like she could fly. Even an interview about the impending failure of the past few years' worth of her work couldn’t ruin her mood as she leaned into the turns on the winding road that led through the forest surrounding Beacon’s campus.

She blew past the parking attendant stand with a jaunty wave, which the attendant tolerated with her usual eye roll, and pulled up to the curb, killing the engine. Hopping off and grabbing her bag and precious thermos full of life-giving coffee she jogged toward the entrance to her lab. She knew full well she was late and prayed that the reporter had gotten lost trying to find the place. Taking the steps two at a time she reached the top and was just reaching for the door when she was brought up short by a dark-haired woman exiting. They avoided a collision only barely and, if Yang was being honest, not because of anything she had done. Luckily for both of them, the newcomer had some reflexes.

Flustered, Yang took off her aviators to examine the unfamiliar and, she was quickly realizing, stunning arrival. She shook her sleep-addled brain in hopes that something clever would come out but came up empty. “Sorry, I, sorry, I didn't see you there...”

Two golden eyes looked up at her impatiently, and Yang found herself trailing off as they examined her. The verdict she saw forming there wasn’t exactly glowing. “Clearly. Fortunately, no harm done.” the woman said briskly. With a dismissive nod, those eyes returned to her scroll as she stepped around Yang and continued on her path.

Forgetting why she had been rushing in the first place Yang turned to follow her. “Wait! Are you...are you lost?” She asked in what she hoped was a neutral but charming tone as she mentally kicked herself. Gods, she knew she was a little out of practice at flirting but this kind of rust was just shameful.

The second appraisal from those eyes wasn’t much more approving than the first, but Yang was so mesmerized by their lovely hue that she couldn’t bring herself to care so long as they kept facing her. She was so entranced she almost missed the reply to her own question.

“If that was a line it was a weak one,” she said, holding up her hand and cutting off Yang’s sputtering protest. “But I am lost, as it turns out. I was supposed to meet someone here about 20 minutes ago and she’s not in her office. I tried looking around but not many people seem to be in today and I don’t know who I’m looking for since her picture wasn’t on the website. Her name is…” she trailed off as she scanned her scroll again until she found what she was looking for. “Xiao Long,” she said, looking up again.

Her weariness dissipated immediately as Yang realized that this absolute vision was here to see her, and she had already made a complete ass of herself. She held out her hand sheepishly. “Uh yeah, Yang.”

“That’s it, Yang Xiao Long, do you know... oh. Wait, you’re her?” That the reporter also needed a moment to piece things together made Yang feel the playing field had leveled somewhat, but her reaction wasn’t exactly encouraging. “Sorry, I mean I’m Amaryllis. Blake Amaryllis of the Vale Daily News. It’s nice to meet you Ms. Xiao Long.”

“Yang is fine. I’m sorry about...well I’m sorry. Not much of a first impression I guess.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m sorry as well. I just have a thing about being on time and you, well you aren’t exactly what I expected.” Blake was scanning Yang with those eyes again, probing in earnest now, as though she was trying to see into Yang’s soul for some secret hidden there.

At that moment the door banged open and Velvet stumbled out, squinting into the morning sun. Another Ph.D. candidate but in the applied math department, Velvet was prone to losing track of time while she worked. Given her disheveled state and drooping ears (Velvet was a faunus with particularly expressive rabbit ears), it seemed she had done just that last night. Yang was thrilled at the momentary distraction and used it to regain her bearings. “Solved anything major?” she asked her groggy colleague.

“Oh heeeey Yang! I’m not sure, but I may have! Honestly, I’m so tired that I might be hallucinating so I’m going to go sleep for a few days and then take another look.” She blinked a few times, seemingly noticing Blake for the first time. “I don’t recognize you, and I’m not totally sure if you’re real...” Before Blake could come up with any sort of reply Velvet abruptly turned and shambled off toward her apartment which was, thankfully, just on the other side of the quad. Still, Yang had found her sleeping in the bushes along the way more than once when even that small distance proved too much.

“See, that was more what I was expecting,” Blake said in the direction of the staggering mathematician. “More of the whole, absent-minded professor thing. Less, supermodel slash biker chick.” This last bit caught Yang off guard, partially because somehow it had been said such that it wasn’t totally a compliment.

“Well, I guess we’re both about defying expectations. You’re not exactly what I was expecting either.” Blake quirked her eyebrow and Yang realized she was dangerously close to making a fool of herself again by flirting poorly, so she scrambled to course correct. “I mean with a name like Amaryllis I feel like you should be a redhead for some reason.” As soon as it was out Yang realized her course correction had been more akin to scuttling the ship with the crew still aboard and fought down an audible groan at her own ineptitude.

An inscrutable look passed over Blake’s face and the bow that Yang only just now realized she was wearing almost seemed to twitch. “Right. Well, shall we?” she said in a tone that did little to raise Yang’s quickly sinking spirits.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll show you to my lab.” Yang tried to keep her tone level, but she couldn’t help but feel that there was no coming back at this point. She led the way through the building and reminded herself that no matter how bad things were today, she would be able to get all of her frustration out in the ring come Saturday night. She just had to make it there.

The trip to the cybernetics lab was silent, and after the usual formalities (“Where should we sit?” “Anywhere’s fine.” “Do you want water or something?” “No, no, I’m ok”...) they settled in chairs across from each other in the corner where team meetings were usually held. Given that most people didn’t show up in the lab until the afternoon they had the place to themselves. Blake set her scroll on the table between them, all business.

“Alright, I’m going to start recording now, is that ok?”

Maintaining as positive an expression as possible Yang nodded.

Blake pressed the start button on her scroll and settled herself. “This is Blake Amaryllis, sitting down with Yang Xiao Long, a bioengineering Ph.D. candidate at Beacon University in the lab of Dr. Pietro Polendina. Ms. Xiao Long, would you please tell me about your work?” She nodded her head encouragingly, indicating it was time for her subject to cough up the details she was here for.

“Yang is fine,” she said reflexively, never having liked formalities, but also attempting to stall while she steadied herself. She did her best to think of her work the way her friends and colleagues did as she went on.

“Well as you said I work in the Lab of Dr. Pietro Polendina, probably the most famous pioneer at the intersection of AI and robotics. His latest work is a four-limbed chair that uses artificially intelligent legs to move semi-independently through any environment, with high-level control handled by a neural chip implanted directly in his brain. This is state-of-the-art tech and obviously is going to help countless people who struggle with mobility issues, and it inspired me to look at similar pathways to help others with different struggles.”

The look on Blake’s face was changing. Her skepticism seemed to be fading somewhat and she looked like she was seeing Yang for the first time. Noticing her pause she gestured for her to continue, so Yang went on.

“His chair’s legs have been the basis for research all over the globe in active prosthetics. Artificially intelligent and brain-controlled limbs could represent a major improvement in the lives of people who currently make use of inactive prosthetics today. Granted, there have been major improvements in that field including the development of some amazing custom devices, but they tend to be limited use and still come with drawbacks. Creating a limb that is mobile, reactive, and multipurpose could help restore function and quality of life to many, but I think there is a better way than simply mimicking what Dr. Polendina has done.”

Blake was definitely looking at her differently now. She looked genuinely intrigued, and Yang was doing all she could not to melt at the attention.

“Why though? I’ve seen videos of his chair, it moves so gracefully. Why not just use his technology?” Blake pressed, challenging but not combative.

Yang smiled, this was her favorite question, and the real reason she stuck with her work. “I know people hate this, but let me answer your question with one of my own. I promise this will clear things up, so bear with me: if you get on an elevator and want to push the button to your desired floor, what muscle activates first?”

Blake pulled back slightly at the unexpected turn, but a small smile formed. She wasn’t sure where this was going but she could feel the shape of it and was willing to reveal her ignorance to help further the story. Still, she wanted this surprisingly brilliant woman across from her to know that she wasn’t a total idiot, so took a moment to think, avoiding the obvious answer.

“I guess, would it be...a muscle in your back?”

Yang nodded approvingly, “Closer than most, but no. Most guess the shoulder, as that’s the muscle they associate with arm movement, and you’re correct that your back does activate before that. However, before your back can do anything it’s actually muscles in your legs, usually the hamstring or calf, that activate to shift your weight. You didn’t think about it consciously, but your body intercepted the signal you were sending that said “lift hand, push button” and broke it down into a bunch of steps that include not falling over because a significant portion of your body weight is about to move, thereby shifting your center of gravity. These steps are then encoded as signals and sent throughout your body, ensuring you don’t faceplant while trying to do something as simple as pushing a button.”

Blake cursed herself silently for not figuring that out, balance being something of a point of pride for her, but also gained just a bit more respect for the mind behind that entrancing face. “I sort of see the issue, but these artificially intelligent limbs seem like they can compensate for that, right?”

Yang was on a roll now, this was always the follow-up question to her example. Time to bring it home. “It seems that way, but the issue is two-fold, and has to do with the changing context. In a self-contained unit, where the AI is in control of all motion, sure, it can compensate. However, if someone has a single lower limb unit and tries to push a button on the elevator, they aren’t sending intentional signals for the AI to process. Sure, a good unit will detect the shift of weight and adjust automatically, but do you see how in this case it’s a reactive adjustment instead of proactive? Even if the AI is amazingly fast there’s still a time lag there that your body will have to deal with. You probably won’t fall, but you’re going to feel a little off-balance, a little uncomfortable, and I think we can do better. Besides, that doesn’t even address the biggest issue.”

Blake took the bait, like everyone did. “Which is?”

“Size constraints. AI still requires a great deal of processing power, which because of both quantum mechanics and thermodynamics still requires a certain amount of volume to achieve. That's ok in something the size of a chair, but would be prohibitive in something the size of a hand or foot. Any processor shrunk to that size would be severely limited in both capability and speed, decreasing the utility of the limb.”

Yang could see that her point hand landed as Blake processed this. She wasn’t surprised, her sales pitch had always been solid, had always had merit. Unfortunately, she was getting to the problem area and not looking forward to disappointing someone who she found she very much wanted to impress.

“Ok, I see why copying Dr. Polendina’s work isn’t the optimal solution. So explain to me what you think is best.”

Yang felt the wind go out of sails but pressed on. “I think we try to solve too many problems with AI. When you have a hammer everything looks like a nail and all that. Maybe instead of making limbs that think we should make limbs that listen. My approach has been to replace the complex computations with a series of dedicated circuits connected to the motors in the artificial limbs that replicate the nervous and muscular systems in a biological limb as closely as possible. Then, I hope to create a direct bridge from those artificial nerves to the existing peripheral nerves. If done properly it would create a much more responsive, natural feeling limb, one with a two-way connection that even provides sensory input. This would allow nearly the same level of tactile feedback, speed, and dexterity of a natural limb. It would also put the limb in the body’s reflex loop, allowing for reactions faster than and outside of conscious thought, something AI limbs simply can’t do given how they’re wired.” Yang was losing steam, coming to the crux of the issue, and it was made all the more awkward by Blake’s obvious interest and enthusiasm.

Blake heard the hesitation and realized she was missing something crucial. “That all sounds amazing, Yang. This was exactly the kind of thinking that I had hoped to find when I first heard about your project, it’s why I’m here. But there’s a problem, isn’t there?”

Yang’s shoulders slumped and she struggled not to look away. So much for...well, whatever it was she had been hoping for the whole time they’d been talking. “Yeah. The first part went really well, I could even show you our prototype arm unit that runs with no computational input, just direct signals. Its movements are incredible. The problem is the neural link. Most fine-grained neural interfaces require surgical implantation, and there are no doctors on Remnant who would touch this with a ten-foot pole. Brain implants are, weirdly, easier given the lack of pain receptors in the brain, but even they need to be monitored closely to make sure they aren’t causing degradation of the neurons they interface with or general infection. On top of those issues, any implanted device in the extremities could cause serious issues if not placed perfectly, and if they shift or are damaged or even perfectly placed but the voltage is wrong they could cause extreme pain, as in literal torture levels of pain. It’s not even something we can reasonably or ethically test.”

Blake’s mouth fell open at this. Up until this point, the story had been playing out exactly as she had hoped: a freethinking scientist taking technology in a new direction to help those who needed it. She had mapped out the bare bones before even meeting Yang just based on preliminary research, and was hoping it would be a real feel-good piece with enough meat that she could use it to move up and off the tech beat into issues she was more interested in. But this, this was a nightmare, and it was dawning on her from the body language of the previously excited and confident woman across from her that it was far worse for her. To be so close to her goal but denied it by such a harsh reality for who knew how long, soldiering on regardless, had clearly taken its toll. She wanted so desperately to help her, at least alleviate her pain but wasn’t sure if she even could. “I’ve heard about people monitoring brain and nervous activity with external electrodes, is that a possibility?” she asked, knowing full well she was grasping at straws and enormously out of her depth, but wanting so badly to throw this drowning woman a lifeline.

Shockingly she seemed to have hit on something as Yang was nodding along. “Yeah, that’s the approach I’ve been looking into. The equipment you’re talking about is still cumbersome and lacks the resolution and speed to work, but I’m doing my best to come up with my own design. I have a prototype I’m working on and I have managed through trial and error to get the nerve for twitching a finger hooked up properly, once, but even that still hurt like a b...bee sting when I activated the link. However once it was fully established the pain subsided some, so that was something, I guess. It’s just proving to be almost impossible to get more than a couple of the sensors at a time placed correctly and I’m starting to run out of ideas on how to improve the process. Look, I’m sorry you came out here and I couldn’t give you more. Maybe in a year or so I’ll have something better for you.”

“Yang, stop.” Blake paused and shut off the recording, then looked back up at the despondent woman across from her. “I think what you’re doing here is really amazing, revolutionary, even. You don’t need to apologize for running into a roadblock, and something tells me that big brain of yours will figure out how to make this work. You’re going to help a lot of people.”

Yang was struck at the sudden sincerity in the reporter’s voice, the intensity with which she was speaking her vision into reality. For just a moment she could see it, like it was made real by decree from those lovely lips. “Blake, I...”

But Blake smirked and shook her head, starting the recording again and switching her demeanor back into professional mode. “So Yang, you told me that you were going to show me that prototype arm of yours?”

Yang smiled, this girl was good. She had brought her back from the precipice of despair so gently and then with one quick shove got her back on track, all in the space of two breaths. Asking about the prototype was a softball right over the plate, and Yang wasn’t going to let it go by. “Of course, you’re going to love this. It’s a great photo op.”

Yang got up and indicated that Blake should follow, thanking her with her eyes and leading her over to the workstation where the arm was held up on its test rig. Blake looked on expectantly as Yang flipped on the power supply and picked up the control sleeve.

“It’s hard to see from the outside, but this arm has no internal CPU and it’s not hooked up to an external one. Instead, this sleeve I’m wearing is rigged to translate my motions into simulated nerve activity, which is then sent directly to the arm.” With this she turned her hand over a few times, the robotic arm moving along smoothly in sync, even copying a cheeky wave and thumbs up. “Downside, no feedback yet, upside, this arm is capable of being very delicate and freakishly strong.” With the first statement, she carefully set an egg in the hand and tossed it up and caught it multiple times without breaking it. She then grabbed a golf ball from a pack that was apparently kept for this purpose, put it in the hand, and proceeded to crush it with a quick and effortless squeeze of her own, laughing as Blake jumped.

“Why would it need to be that strong?” Blake asked, somewhat nervously.

“Oh, it turns out it’s actually harder to make it delicate, the strength just sort of happened. I’m mostly concerned with having a high dynamic range, much like biological hands. In the final version I’ll definitely tone that down, and likely use materials other than steel to build the hand itself, making it both lighter and much more functional for daily life as well as a little less...intimidating.” Yang smiled as she saw the silvery arm through Blake’s eyes. It did indeed look intimidating in that lens, but to her, it was more like an old friend who happened to be super strong. And made of metal. Ok, a little intimidating.

Blake laughed as she took a few silly pictures of Yang manipulating the arm, and got one they both loved of Yang hi-fiving herself with it. All in all, it was enough for a solid piece about the tech of tomorrow, and she could write around the issues of today in hopes that her subject would figure them out sooner or later. Checking the time she realized that writing was going to have to happen quickly as she had a deadline for that evening and hadn’t thought she would spend so long chatting with a scientist, or that she would enjoy it so much. “I’ve actually got to run, I need to get a draft to my editor by 2 to make the evening deadline. Thank you so much for your time,” she said, holding out her hand and noting the warmth and strength of the one that took it. 

“Any time...Amaryllis. Seriously, are you sure you’re not a redhead?” Yang said, not quite willing to let their time together come to an end.

“Pretty sure, Xiao Long.” Blake said, “and I stand by what I said. You are not at all what I expected.”

“In a good way?” Yang said conspiratorial, raising her eyebrows up and down in a manner so ridiculous Blake couldn’t help but laugh at her antics.

“I haven’t decided yet.” She said, gathering her things.

“It’s totally in a good way.” Yang asserted confidently as she showed her out.

“Hmm, maybe,” Blake said in what she hoped was a sly manner. She wasn’t sure if the radiant blonde next to her was causing her to burn up because she was physically warm or if it was just the effect her smile was having on her, but either way the reporter facade Blake prided herself in was beginning to slip. It was definitely time to leave. “Here’s my card, feel free to contact me when you have a breakthrough, I’d love to do a followup”

Yang did a poor job of hiding her excitement as she took the card, looking at it a bit too long before she tucked it away in her back pocket. “Uh yeah, for sure. You’ll be the first to know.”

They parted pleasantly, with just enough awkwardness to leave both of them happily flustered. Yang almost fainted from the effort of playing it cool when Blake looked back once from the parking lot to smile and wave as she got in her car. After collecting herself and frantically trying to remember how to wave like a normal person Yang practically fled back to her lab and collapsed in a chair. She was somewhere between mortified and elated and wasn’t in any place to figure out which it was.

\--

A few hours of staring dreamily into space finally convinced Yang that work wasn’t on the menu for the day, so she left early. After a quick workout, she swung by the store to pick up some supplies and headed home to start dinner. Friday night dinners were usually leftovers or a night for everyone to fend for themselves but after the great roux disaster of the night before she thought a nice simple meal would do everyone good.

Ruby arrived home not long after her and came to sit and watch her cook. Rather than ask her to help Yang simply poured each of them a glass of wine and continued bustling about the kitchen, indicating she should stay seated and relax a bit. After a few minutes, Yang looked up from the chicken she was prepping and was greeted by a knowing smirk form her kid sister.

“Do I have chicken guts in my hair or something?” Yang asked, mostly joking.

“No. Something’s up with you. You’re in a really good mood,” Ruby said, squinting at her sister as though she could see whatever it was that was causing this aberrant behavior. Yang huffed and went back to cooking, but her sister’s amusement only seemed to build. She continued to pry gently and Yang continued deflecting until the front door opened and closed, Weiss apparently home at a normal hour as well.

“Something smells good!” she said by way of greeting as she strode into the kitchen, “Oh, wine, that would be lovely.”

It would have been a request (or command, it was Weiss after all) had Yang not anticipated it and had a glass ready as soon as she entered. Weiss took a long draw, followed by a deep breath, and only then noticed the strange energy in the room. She looked first at Ruby, who was grinning ear to ear, then at Yang who was blushing fiercely and trying and failing to act casual.

“Yang Xiao Long, are you humming?” Weiss accused, voice full of mock incredulity.

“What? No. Maybe? So what, you hum all the time!” she blustered, her poor attempt at a poker face giving way to indignation.

“Yes, I do, but that’s the point. I hum all the time. You hum in very specific circumstances. Like when you meet someone particularly attractive.” Weiss said matter-of-factly.

Ruby facepalmed so hard she almost knocked herself out of her chair. Of course, Weiss would get straight to the heart of the matter while she had been trying to tease it out of Yang for almost an hour.

“Or I could be really happy. Maybe I had a major breakthrough at work, did you think of that?” Yang shot back defensively.

“Did you have a major breakthrough at work?”

“No, but I could have.” Yang stopped and grabbed her glass of wine guiltily.

“So who is she?” Ruby asked, itching to be in on this new piece of juicy gossip. Yang wasn’t celibate by any stretch of the imagination but she rarely got so worked up over someone. Humming, she would have to remember that if this happened again.

“Guys stop, it’s not like that. I just met someone today in a totally professional setting who happened to be really, really attractive.” Yang said, her eyes taking on a dreamy look. “Gah fuck! ” she shouted as her potatoes chose that moment to boil over, necessitating a quick adjustment on the burner and snapping her back to reality.

“You still haven’t answered.” Ruby teased, and Yang very maturely stuck her tongue out in response. Weiss meanwhile had disappeared into her scroll, Yang assumed to read something related to her internship or one of her classes.

“Blake Amaryllis,” she announced triumphantly, showing her screen to Ruby.

“What and how?” Yang demanded, stomping around the counter to look over the girls’ shoulders, her eyes landing on a picture of herself with her robotic arm under the byline. Yang groaned at Weiss’s web search wizardry and then stalked back to the stove, realizing she was suddenly nervous to know what had been written about her. “So, what does it say?” she asked in a very poor attempt at nonchalance.

“Is it her?” Weiss demanded.

“Fine, yes, it’s her. What does it say?!” Yang suddenly felt all of her fears and anxieties from the day before resurface, intensified. For some reason it didn’t matter to her that the world might know she was a fraud, a failure, it’s that Blake, this girl she literally just met, might think that.

“It’s short, but I think it says she feels the same way,” Ruby said, finishing the piece.

Unable to take the suspense anymore Yang reached across the counter and grabbed the scroll to see for herself.

> When you think of revolutionary minds set to change the world and improve the lives of thousands-if not millions-of people, what do you picture? You probably don’t picture a tall, leather-clad figure with a charming swagger and a giant motorcycle, but that’s only because you’ve never met Yang Xiao Long, a Ph.D. candidate in the lab of the famous Dr. Pietro Polendina. Using his groundbreaking research in AI and robotics as a jumping-off point, Ms. Xiao Long is in the process of designing active prosthetics that are at once simpler and more capable than anything either on the market or in development today. Dr. Polendina told me that she is a unique visionary well on her way towards shaking up the entire field as we know it, and after sitting down with her today in her lab I must agree.

The rest consisted of quotes from the interview and predictions for the future of her work, framed in the most positive way imaginable, as well as some of the photos, the focus being the one of Yang hi-fiving herself with a big grin on her face. She was stunned. She had felt like the interview overall went well but this, this was beyond anything she could have hoped for. Blake made her look like a goddamn rock star!

“I. Wow, yeah that was. Good.” She stammered, still struck by the glowing tone of the article.

“Good? Yang, don’t be dense, this girl has got it bad,” Weiss said incredulously. “I mean don’t get me wrong, everything she said is true and you are a total badass doing amazing work. But come on, she totally has the hots for you.” Weiss stated it all as if it were obvious, but Yang just couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge any of it. 

“I don’t know, whatever, maybe. Can we drop it? This is... A lot, it’s a lot. Also, dinner’s ready.” Yang moved to pull the chicken from the oven, but she couldn’t hide her smile. Her friends had the decency to keep further comments on the matter to themselves, satisfying themselves with a knowing look to each other behind her back as they got up to set the table.


	4. Extracurriculars

With a home-cooked meal in her stomach and no more interviews to worry her Yang slept like the dead, more than making up for her restlessness the night before. As usual on fight days she stayed in bed well past noon, needing all the rest she could get for the night to come. Once she was up she began prepping several light meals she would eat throughout the day all while aggressively hydrating. In the past, she had needed to prepare covertly so her housemates wouldn’t notice her odd behavior, but these days no one was around on a Saturday afternoon to notice. Ruby was often at the hospital on the weekends (and nights, and holidays, and...) while Weiss used the time to study, which she preferred to do in the cushy law library. At first, Yang thought Ruby might be home for once given her lighter than usual rotation, but a note stuck to the fridge indicated she had tagged along to study with Weiss. Apparently, she had a big exam coming up and needed to prepare. Yang idly wondered for the millionth time if those two were ever going to figure out their feelings for each other. She hoped they would, but she couldn’t do it for them and everyone seemed happy with the current state of affairs so she wasn’t about to say anything.

When 8 o’clock rolled around Yang went through her final fight prep, wondering if she could drop the act given she was performing for an empty house. Her gear was about halfway to the venue, stashed in a short term locker after the location had been announced, but she needed to prepare for the trip there and back. Instead of putting on athletic gear, she went to her closet to pick out a sufficiently short dress and then began doing her hair and makeup, all to keep up the pretense that she was going out to a club as her roommates believed. She had long since stopped wearing heels; they may have made for a more believable disguise but her feet were usually sore after kicking the flavor of the week’s ass, so sensible flats had become her jam.

The only things not for show were the brass knuckles she slipped into her clutch. They weren’t for the fight, as weapons were strictly forbidden, they were for after. She had been warned early on that no one’s safety was guaranteed before or after a fight, and tired fighters made for easy targets, especially those that traveled alone. She had thought long and hard about her weapon of choice for self-defense, and while there were other options that were more intimidating or had a longer range Yang trusted her fists first and foremost. Besides, the gold bands across her fingers almost looked like rings from a distance, and anyone close enough to see what they actually were wasn’t likely to stay conscious long. She had only had to use them once after a drunk spectator jumped her as payback for him losing his money betting against her. Safe to say he did not get a refund, but it was still not something Yang wanted to repeat.

All dressed up for a night she had no intention of having she walked out, rolling her eyes at her reflection in the hallway mirror. Just another party girl, off to dance the night away without a care or thought in her head. Right. Maybe that’s who she could have been, once, but that girl never materialized. Instead, she was, what? Scientist by day and brawler by night? For a moment, she saw her alter egos superimposed in the mirror. Try as she might, she couldn’t figure out which one was truly her, certain only that the mask she currently wore was not. “This shit is going to require some expensive-ass therapy at some point,” she said to the troubling image. She was saved from her uncomfortable introspection when she heard Ruby and Weiss return home and after performing one last check of her now normal reflection she headed for the door.

“Off to another club? Or is it a rave this time?” Weiss said with a mixture of disbelief and judgment at her behavior. “Have you ever considered slowing down?” 

“Maybe when I’m dead,” Yang said breezily, swaggering down the stairs, her mask for the evening firmly in place. “You two staying in?”

“Yeah, we’re both feeling brain dead so we were going to watch a movie or something,” Ruby said, stifling a yawn.

“You two are a couple of real party animals.” Yang teased, but with no real edge to her voice. She loved her hard-working homebodies just as they were. For a moment she was tempted to bag the whole night and hang with them, to try having a normal night for a change. Then again, she suspected they might prefer she not crash their evening. Regardless, the ritual of preparing for a night out partying had triggered what was probably the weirdest pavlovian response ever and she could feel her adrenaline slowly ramping up. The ring was calling, and she was not going to deny that siren song tonight. “Try not to burn the place down while I’m out,” she said with a laugh in her voice, playing off the anticipation of a fight as something more mundane.

\--

Fight won, prize money in hand, and clad in sweats over her fight gear, Yang walked back towards the storage building, doing a systems check as she went. Despite her fear that she was seeing things just after the fight, she seemed to have escaped without any serious blows to the head. The rest of her body, on the other hand, was a bit worse for the wear. Her movement had been good tonight, and she had evaded most of the worst of it, but the few hard shots she had taken from that giant had left painful reminders of every time she had been less than perfect. As she went she was careful to only direct part of her attention inward, using most of it to scan the seedy neighborhood around her. Fights were rarely in the nice part of town, so she was practiced at such a task, but she tried never to get complacent as she watched and listened for signs of trouble. When she was a few blocks away from her destination she noticed one such sign; multiple sets of footsteps seemed to be staying a suspiciously consistent distance away from her. Boots, maybe three sets. Big ones by the sounds of it, probably filled by big guys. Great.

Yang stopped abruptly under a street light and pretended to check her scroll, hoping to get a look at her pursuers, but instead lost track of them. Either they had anticipated her pausing or had already broken off, but either way, she was left with little choice but to head to her storage locker, which was in a building with visible security cameras Yang had chosen for just such an occasion. She reached the entrance unchallenged, took a look around, swiped her card at the outer door to unlock it, and closed it firmly behind herself. She took her time going to her locker and getting her clothes, hoping whoever had been following her would give up. Changing in the bathroom and half-heartedly reapplying her makeup she verified that she looked equal parts put together and disheveled, as one would after a night of dancing, and went back to stash her gear for later. To be on the safe side she decided to leave the Lien she had won as well. The locker was hers through next week, she could come to get it then. Or not, it’s not like she actually needed the money. Either way, there was certainly no need to make herself more of a target by carrying it home now.

Feeling she had waited as long as she reasonably could she strode back towards the exit, projecting confidence that she estimated was at least half real. Back outside in the brisk fall evening, she saw no sign of life between her and the big avenue some five or six blocks off. She set out at a purposeful clip, aiming for the lights and relative safety of the party going crowds she was supposed to be part of anyway. Halfway to the well-lit streets and an easy trip home, she heard the boots again, and something more. Was that someone else? Had they picked up a fourth? It was hard for Yang to say, but this one moved differently, not in step with the three from before. Puzzling out whether there were three or four stopped being her main priority, however, when she heard them pick up their pace. It sounded like they had no intention of letting her reach a crowded street. Time for plan B.

While she considered her options Yang subtly slipped her hands one at a time into her clutch, putting on her only mode of defense, hoping it would be enough. If they had guns it wouldn’t matter much either way but she was pretty sure she could take them otherwise. At least she could if she had been fresh, which she wasn’t, and not wearing a dress, which she was.

Fuck.

Fighting tended to make one an avid runner, as cardio was often the difference between winning and taking an unexpected nap, and Yang was no exception. She ran quite a lot, so she had a pretty good mental map of the city. Picking a spot that suited her needs from the map in her head she made a sudden right turn. Her new path took her away from home and safety, but hopefully towards a fighting chance.

A few more seemingly random turns later and she was certain that not only was she being tailed, but they were also gaining. Still, she had time, and it sounded like the fourth person had vanished, so that was something. When Yang reached her goal, a narrow dead-end alley in the now-empty financial district, she baited the trap. Pretending to stagger she lurched from the street into the alley, breaking into a brief sprint as soon as she was in the shadows, stopping to hide behind the far side of a dumpster.

It didn’t take long for those boots to come thudding into the alley and blow right past Yang. She briefly considered making a break for it, but she didn’t want to risk being followed again, especially if that meant leading these thugs to her home. No matter what, she refused to endanger Ruby or Weiss. Instead, she stood up silently behind the three large men, picked the one closest, and sucker-punched him with as much force as her exhausted body could manage. The combination of the weight of the brass knuckles and her unerring accuracy meant that guy was most likely going to wake up with his jaw wired shut and no memory of why, and Yang felt little in the way of pity for him. As he slumped to the ground the other men turned and found themselves beset by a flurry of punches. Yang knew while fighting two men she couldn’t focus too much on one, so instead, she just went for the good old shock and awe. It seemed to be working too, Yang definitely broke a couple of ribs and landed at least a few glancing blows to their faces, until one of the men pulled a very large knife. That was enough to get Yang to step back out of range, but she found that in the scuffle she had somehow gotten turned around so her back was to the wall. Less than ideal.

“Fuck, we were already planning to kick your ass, but now I’m really going to enjoying this.” the man with the knife said, his face was obscured by shadow but his words carried the shape of a sneer. ”There’s no way you should have been able to beat Jack, no way. Jack’s the best, so that means you cheated, and now I know for sure. Cold cocking our buddy here wasn’t very sportsmanlike, and those little toys of yours ain’t either. Before I was thinking that maybe if you gave us your winnings to make up for the Lien you basically stole from us, we’d call it even. But here’s your deal now: give us the Lien, and maybe we won’t kill you after we beat the shit out of you. Maybe. That’s the best deal you’re gonna get.”

Yang knew she should be afraid, these were big dudes, that knife could easily gut her, and she was still recovering from delivering a beating to the man who was apparently “the best”. Instead, she just felt angry. It was all such bullshit, dying for some stupid money because some shitheads were mad their pal got thrashed by a girl. Nope, not happening, fuck that. As indignation rose in her chest a familiar red haze played at the edges of her vision. She could feel the fury building, the fury that made her unstoppable, invincible. Yang didn’t always let that fury run wild but she was in no mood to hold it back now.

Her stance must have looked too defiant, or maybe the guy facing her just got impatient because in the next heartbeat he raised his knife and brought it down viciously. Without thinking, for conscious thought would have told her what she was doing was insane, Yang returned fire with a right uppercut, but not one aimed at her attacker. Instead, she delivered the blow to the knife itself, miraculously catching the blade on the metal band across her fingers and knocking it straight up in the air without it so much as grazing her skin. Her attacker was so surprised at her improbable counter that he made his last mistake for the evening and let his eyes drift up to follow the lazy arc of the spinning knife, completely missing the left cross that would cost him a couple of teeth, and consciousness.

Yang glared at the last man, seething at this point and so worked up that her sweat was rising off of her in waves of steam in the chill night air. When she looked up at him he jolted as though a current had passed through his body, but made no move to run. “What? You want some too, big man?” she yelled, readying herself to end the fight.

Before either of them could make a move the matter was decided. From the shadows a figure emerged, the fourth set of footsteps, but not to side with the original three. With an efficient, almost lazy motion she slammed the weighted end of her collapsible billy club into the back of the man’s head, dropping him like a sack of bricks.

Seeing a new potential threat Yang raised her guard and bared her teeth, nearly lost to feral rage, but that rage vanished in the space of a heartbeat when she was confronted with a pair of familiar golden eyes.

“Blake?” she asked incredulously.

“Yang, we should really get out of here.” the woman replied as she stepped from the shadows.

“What about them?”

Blake looked conflicted. “I guess we should call the cops, but then we need to bail,” she said finally.

“Yeah, I suppose it could get awkward pretty quick if they start asking questions, huh?” Yang said sheepishly.

“That is the understatement of the century,” Blake said, folding up her weapon and tucking it in her jacket. “Let’s go.”

After placing a call to the anonymous tip line the two made a hasty retreat, not eager to spend their night answering uncomfortable questions or, equally likely, in a cell. Once they reached the sanctuary of lights and the late-night crowd they paused, both of them struggling to process the unexpected turn the evening had taken and completely unsure of how to proceed. Blake’s impatience and curiosity finally won out over her hesitance and she reached out and took Yang’s hand. “Come on, I think we should talk,” was all she said as she led her confidently down several streets until they found a quiet bar that advertised being open all night. Other than the handful of regulars that a dive bar always attracts the place was empty, and the pair made their way to a booth in the darkened back corner, away from prying ears.

“So. That was a thing.” Yang said awkwardly, still reeling from the events of the past hour not to mention the intoxicating effect of being near Blake again so soon. She tried and failed to ignore the tingling feeling in her hand left behind by the unexpected contact, cursing herself inwardly for behaving like a lovesick teenager.

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it,” Blake replied sardonically. “Yang, what the fuck was that?”

“Which part? The part where I got jumped or the part where you saved me like a knight in...shadowy armor?” she said jokingly. “Whatever, you saved me. My hero.”

Yang didn’t know why she was deflecting. Obviously, the question was about the fight, but what could she say to someone who just told the whole city she was a revolutionary scientist do-gooder and then immediately saw her fighting in a cage-like an animal. Yang’s attempt at a dopey grin fell off her face, along with the last traces of her charade.

“What I was really asking about was this dress you’re wearing. I mean come on, that’s so last season.” Blake said, sarcasm practically pooling on the table in front of her. “Gods, Yang, the part where you’re ‘the Dragon’, champion of the local underground fighting ring. Obviously.” 

Yang thought her overemphasized air quotes on ‘the Dragon’ were a bit much, the nickname wasn’t that bad. Still, she couldn’t argue it was a bit of an odd juxtaposition. That said, that tone of voice was starting to sound a little judgy, and frankly, Yang didn’t feel she owed anything to this woman yet.

“What, I’m not allowed to have extracurriculars? I can only be the scientist tucked away in her lab, nothing else? You don’t know me,” she spat, her words appearing to hit Blake like a slap in the face, but she was far from done. “What about you? Coming out of shadows like a ninja or something. And what the fuck were you doing at the fight in the first place? Last I checked there’s not much of a budding tech scene there to report on, princess. ” Yang wasn’t sure why she added the last part, she hoped it wasn’t because she still thought this girl looked oddly like royalty and was somehow paying her a compliment.

Blake looked taken aback in more ways than one by her outburst but didn’t fire back immediately. Instead, she took a moment to visibly calm herself before speaking. “You’re right, I’m sorry, that didn’t come out the way I intended. You have to admit though, it’s an odd hobby for someone with your day job,” she said, raising her hands in mock surrender, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

Yang laughed despite herself and waved down the bartender to bring them a couple of beers. “Yeah, can’t argue with you on that one,” she said. Taking a long draw from her pint Yang gathered her thoughts and let her temper cool. “What I do in the lab is awesome, I love it, really. It’s challenging and makes me feel like I’m doing something good... when it works.” Yang almost let herself slip down a well-worn path of despair on that front but avoided it by going on. “But that’s not all I am. Would it surprise you to know that I’m also a really involved older sister? I live with my sis; I mean shit, I practically raised her. That’s also part of who I am.” Blake was silent, realizing that the wrong word now would break this spell of honesty, and Yang continued. “But that’s not all I am either. I’m a fighter, I have been for a while. It’s a selfish thing I do, a stupid thing. I know that. My friends don’t know I do more than train at some local gyms and they wish I wouldn’t even do that much for fear I’ll get hurt. So I can’t tell them about this, but it’s still part of who I am. I never feel alive like I do under those lights as ‘the Dragon.’” she said mimicking Blake’s air quotes and laughing at her own silly nickname, but quickly growing serious again. “Not telling my friends is the worst, and I always feel at least some guilt, some shame, when I step in the ring and risk everything, but I just can’t imagine living without it. It’s like, in my day-to-day life I’m not allowed to be more than a candle, and it’s only at night, in the ring, that I can truly burn.”

Blake saw again what she had seen in the alley and the ring before that; a look of such ferocity that Yang did, in fact, look like a flame. A flame capable of destroying everything around her in a fury, or of providing heat and life to those in need when she burned more gently. That potential for violence was what had riled Blake up in the first place, as she had seen people refuse to control such potential in the past, but she hoped Yang was different. She seemed different, self-aware, and at least somewhat self-controlled. Still, there was something in her that was a little too familiar, and it scared Blake, badly. The smart thing to do would be to run now, but she feared it was already too late for that. Something about the blonde sitting across from her was just so real, so compelling. She felt like she had been living her life in black and white and all of a sudden she was over the rainbow and everything was in technicolor. How was she supposed to go back?

“Yang, I just. Can you tell me something? In the ring, or, well, in general, I guess. Do you like it? Hurting people, I mean.” The question came haltingly, painfully. As soon as it left her mouth Blake felt like an idiot, knowing she had just burned a bridge that wasn’t even fully built yet, but she had to know. She had such lousy taste in people, and she had vowed she would never again forgive someone for violence and spite just because they had a pretty face and said nice things to her. She felt herself shrinking into the stiff bench, bracing as though for a physical blow. Eventually, she had to meet the gaze of the person she had just so bluntly interrogated.

Yang’s eyes were back to their soft lilac (had they been red before, or was that a trick of the odd neon lights in the bar?) and she gazed openly at Blake, no mask left to hide behind and nothing but sadness at the naked fear she saw across from her. “No, Blake. I don’t enjoy hurting people. I love to fight, it’s true, but in my ideal world everyone would pop up at the end and high five, totally unharmed. I admit that I’m competitive, aggressive, and even prone to anger at times, but I don’t enjoy the act of hurting anyone.” The vulnerability and honesty of the moment overwhelmed Blake and she looked away, relieved but also ashamed that she had demanded even more from someone who had volunteered so much. What right did she have to ask more of this woman, and what could she even give in return? She feared the next words, the request for reciprocity.

“Blake I, all that I said before, that was a lot to just dump on you, and I’m sorry. If you happen to moonlight as a therapist you should let me know your rates,” Yang said, forcing a laugh at her own hollow joke, but giving Blake an out all the same. Go, those lilacs said, run. Your discomfort is palpable.

“Yang, I...thank you. Thank you for opening up to me. You didn’t have to, and I shouldn’t have pressed, but I do appreciate it. I guess it’s a habit from my job, I always have to know the what and the why. Mostly the why.” Blake stared into her beer as she ran her finger in circles across the lip.

“I mean you did save me, I guess I owed you a little.” Yang joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Ha, save you? I meant to, that’s why I followed those men, but by the time I got there you had already taken them apart,” she said, seeing no reason to hide her admiration at the impressive feat. “I just brought things to their inevitable conclusion a bit faster.”

“Yeah well, it’s the thought that counts,” Yang said jovially.

Blake liked the flirtatious back and forth, but she owed Yang something, some bit of truth. Something real to pay back her honesty.

“I was there working a story. Not for the paper, for...well, for me I guess. I’m hoping that if I get enough evidence I can either publish it or take it straight to the police.” Blake found the words tumbling out. She had promised herself that she would always work alone, that she would never burden anyone with her secret and the danger it entailed. Maybe it was adrenaline or maybe it was just that she was lonely, but she was starting to think that maybe both of them had been going it alone long enough. Maybe a partnership, just this once, could be a good thing. Maybe Blake could touch something and not have it turn to ash. Just once. Please. “Ok, I, look, this is dangerous. I can stop now if you want, just say the word, but I have a proposition.”

Yang smiled ear to ear, completely unsurprised to find this mysterious woman had something fun (dangerous, fun, same thing) going on. Gods was she fascinating. “Whatever it is, I’m in.”

Blake snorted, “Of course you are.” Real hope filled her though, a chance to work with someone, to confide in someone, to have someone’s back and know they had hers. “You know about the White Fang, right?” Yang nodded. Of course she did. So Blake continued. “There’s a splinter group that’s formed over the past several years, an extremely violent one, and they’re planning a takeover of the whole organization. They hope to remake the White Fang into a series of independently operating terrorist cells. I don’t know for sure, but I think they have aims to destabilize governments across all of Remnant. My goal is to ferret out enough information about the members and plans so that I can take it to the authorities and shut the whole thing down.” Blake finished breathlessly, becoming fully aware of the audacity of a plan she had never actually spoken allowed.

Yang’s eyes had gotten wider with every word, and she sat back in the booth, mouth slightly agape and beer completely forgotten. “Fuck,” was all she managed in response.

All of Blake’s hopes came crashing back to reality with that single exclamation. She realized she had revealed too much too fast, that this new plan was crumbling before it could even start. Why had she thought she could share something so outrageous, and with a perfect stranger? She let a moment of weakness and a pretty face turn her into a fool and now they might both be in danger if Yang told anyone about her harebrained scheme. “I told you too much. I’m sorry, it’s ridiculous, you should just forget I said anything and I should, I should go. I’m going, should I pay? Where’s my wallet? Fuck!” The tension of everything she had been holding for years, carrying alone across multiple continents, threatened to tear her apart. She was humiliated to find tears blurring her vision as she searched ineffectually through her purse, only stopping when a hand softly touched her arm.

Looking up, Blake was met with a look of such sympathy and warmth that her heart skipped a beat. Yang guided the hand from her purse back to the table and then held it in both of her own. Her warm, rough hands. Fighter’s hands, it was true, but clearly capable of a gentle touch. Blake was dumbstruck, her mind already scattered by panic and now her entire existence focused down to her left hand and all the places it was making contact with Yang.

“Blake.” The softness of her voice was like a warm ray of sun on a winter’s day. There was a word for that. Blake always did love odd, rarely used words. Apricity, that was it. Wait, was the sun still talking to her?

“Blake, I told you, I’m in. Obviously, this is kind of big, and I just needed a minute to process. Are you working on this alone?” she asked, receiving a silent nod in response. “Gods Blake, that must be such a burden. You don’t have to do this on your own, not anymore. I’m in. What do you need me to do?”

It was too much, no one was this kind, this strong. It was a trap, it must be. Blake looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes, waiting for the catch, but she couldn’t see it. Not even at her most cynical could she see this woman baiting her like that. Still, she couldn’t deny all of her old instincts. “That’s it? Yang, you still don’t know anything about me, about why I’m doing any of this.”

Yang kept looking at her, into her, in such a way that Blake could swear she already knew everything. Instead of accusations though she simply asked, “Do you want to tell me?”

The tears in her eyes threatened to break loose and begin their fall to the scarred wood of the table, but she managed to hold them back. “I want to. I do. But I can’t.”

“Ok,” was the only reply.

Here it was, the moment this girl she hardly knew but was hanging her hopes on came to her senses and walked out. But that warmth surrounding her hand remained and she found herself instinctively wrapping her free hand around calloused knuckles, praying that someone would finally stand with her. Refusing to believe her prayer could ever be answered. Eventually, she had to look up and meet that lilac gaze again.

“How many times do I have to ask? What do you need me to do?”

Blake took one more deep, disbelieving breath, still not sure how she had found herself in the presence of this incredible woman. Slowly at first, gaining steam as she went, she told her the rough outline of a plan that had been forming in her mind since they sat down.

\--

A few hours later Blake dropped Yang off at home, absolutely refusing to let her walk or take the train after the night they’d had. Yang thought the show of concern and chivalry was endearing and certainly didn’t mind that it gave her a few more minutes with the fascinating reporter who she was growing more infatuated with by the hour. Her plan was bareboned and still needed to be filled in a bit, but the idea was straightforward enough. She had a source who claimed that the local White Fang cell was using the fights as a place to meet and discuss plans discreetly. Finding the fights wasn’t too hard, but you were supposed to know someone who knew someone to get in. The question of whether you knew the right people was determined by a constantly rotating series of passwords that needed to be given in response to specific challenges from the bouncers. Kind of arcane but it was an easy way to find cops trying to sneak in with outdated information. Earlier, Blake had used her ridiculous stealth to listen in to one such exchange (Yang wasn’t super clear on this part since it had only been vaguely explained, but she made a note to press more later when it felt appropriate) and managed to get in, but she could tell she was watched throughout the night, which prevented her from gathering any useful intel. It would be better if she were properly invited.

That would be easy enough, she could enter as part of Yang’s crew (current membership: Yang) and come and go without suspicion as long as she made a show of being in the corner during the fight. Because Blake refused to have this be a one-sided deal she told Yang she would do the job for real and as best she could, promising to go home and study up on it. Yang burst out laughing at the image of someone researching how to be a trainer in a cage match but contained herself when she saw that her new partner was quite serious. It was kind of touching how earnest she was.

The hard part was figuring out where the Fang met, as it wasn’t ringside or any of the other areas Blake had been able to scope out without being stopped by security, so searching restricted areas was obviously top priority. Yang told her that there was usually a secluded area for fighters to change and warm-up, but other than that and the ring she wasn’t exactly given run of the place. So even with Yang to get her in she would still have to find the meeting location of the White Fang and eavesdrop on them without getting caught. Neither of them cared to think about how difficult that particular step would be. Instead, they decided to take it one step at a time and hope for the best.

Yang hadn’t realized that she had dozed off on the ride until a hand gently shook her awake. “I think we’re here,” Blake said, looking at the row of relatively similar houses.

Yang blinked her eyes blearily. “Yeah it’s the blue one two houses up, I’ll just hop out.”

“No, no, I’ll drop you right in front.” Blake insisted, pulling up to the right one. “There you are m’lady, door-to-door service.” She said with mock gallantry and a roguish smile.

Yang groaned but in truth, she enjoyed the attention more than a little. “My hero,” she replied glibly. “I’ll text you when I get notified about the next fight, they’re usually every two to three weeks to let people heal and give the promoters time to build hype,” she said as she got out of the car. Turning back with a smile she added sincerely, “Thanks again, for everything. Goodnight, partner.”

With a soft clunk of the car door, she was gone and Blake was left wondering if she was dreaming; wondering if that crazy blonde with fighter’s hands and a scientist's mind was real and if she was really so willing to help a complete stranger with so little to offer in return. People like that didn’t exist in her world, but something about this one made her hope. A dangerous thing, hope. Seems nice at first, but for people like Blake, it was usually just the first stop on the express line to disappointment. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of those cynical thoughts as she turned her car back toward her apartment. All the while she rolled that parting word around in her mouth, trying it out. “Partner,” she said aloud to her empty car, a small smile on her face. She liked how that sounded.

\--

Yang strolled up the walkway, contentedly gazing at the shattered moon as she ambled along. One would think that after the night she’d had she would want to get behind a dead-bolted door as soon as possible, but her time with Blake had left her feeling warm and dreamy. When she slipped inside she noticed that the TV was on but muted, and Ruby was passed out on the couch. Immediately to her left, where she had likely been watching through the window, was the angriest version of Weiss that Yang had seen in years. Yang opened her mouth to explain but she was silenced with a glare followed by a theatrical yet intimidating jab of the small woman’s finger indicating they should talk upstairs.

Yang sulked the whole way, already putting together where this was going and not really liking her odds. She went to the empty room at the end of the hall, Pyrrha’s old room, both because it was furthest from where Ruby currently slept and because she hoped that neutral ground would lessen the incoming attack. On the first count, at least, Yang was spot on.

Weiss wheeled on her as soon as she closed the door behind them. “Do you have ANY idea what time it is?!”

“It’s about...” Yang fumbled for her scroll. 

Strike 1.

“That was a rhetorical question, Yang. It’s 4:30 in the morning.” Weiss was unparalleled when it came to lectures. Despite the more than 6-inch height difference, Yang shrunk back as Weiss vented rage that had clearly been building for some time.

“Finish taking out your scroll. Go on. What do you see?” there was more than anger in her voice now, Yang could hear fear, which was somehow much worse.

Yang hung her head and pulled out her scroll, which she always silenced for fights. 42 text messages, 10 missed calls, a handful of voicemails. Suddenly fear gripped her chest. “What happened?”

But Weiss cut her off. “To us? Nothing, Yang, we had a lovely night, until a news broadcast came on saying three men had been arrested, all beaten to within an inch of their lives and claiming they got jumped from behind while during a fight with a blonde girl in an alley.”

Yang saw an opportunity to save herself, “Where was that?”

“The financial district,” Weiss said flatly, seeing Yang trying to wriggle out of this and not willing to play along.

Yang was relieved that the report had been specific, “Weiss, why would I be there? You know the clubs I go to, and I would tell you if...” 

Strike 2.

“Stop. Just. Stop.” Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to hold off the tension headache that was clearly building. “Yang, we all play along with your little club girl act because it suits you, but I’ve been to a club with you and you just seemed bored. So wherever you go on the weekends, I’m guessing that’s not it. I don’t know where you go, and up until now, I’ve never asked because you never gave me a reason too. Maybe you go play bridge with the elderly, maybe you go take ventriloquist lessons, I doubt it, but people are full of surprises. Tonight though Yang, you left your sister to wonder if you were dead in a gutter somewhere, for hours. She literally cried herself to sleep. So you are going to tell me, right now. Where were you tonight?”

Weiss had literally backed her into a corner with each word and now stood only inches away, her icy blue eyes boring holes in Yang’s skull. She wanted to tell her friend the truth, she wanted so badly to tell her everything, but she couldn’t, not now. It wouldn’t just be giving up a part of her life that she didn’t yet know how to live without, it would endanger Blake and her whole mission.

Of course!

“I was with Blake,” Yang said, truthfully.

Weiss took a half step back, looking at her skeptically. “The reporter?”

“Yeah. She asked me if I would meet her for a drink.” Yang felt the story fall into place, regretting that it entailed more lies but happy it had at least a kernel of truth. “I thought she wanted to talk about more tech stuff but it was a...social call.” Yang tried to look appropriately bashful.

Weiss looked conflicted, her anger still roiling and fed by righteousness but her wish to see her friend happy was making it difficult to maintain. Besides, their assumption that the blonde mentioned was Yang when they had no other details was sort of on them. Still, she wasn’t one to admit defeat and refused to not have the last word.

“I hope you had a good time Yang, I really do. But if you’re going to go out at all hours of the night without telling anyone where you really are you might consider letting your sister know you’re ok. Or me. I care too, you know.” The last was admitted grudgingly, Weiss hated running out of steam when she was on a good rant.

“I know, I care about you too Weiss, and I am so, so sorry I worried you,” Yang said. Seeing an opening she embraced her friend cautiously and was relieved when Weiss returned the hug after only a brief hesitation.

“Do me a favor though Yang?” Weiss murmured as she stepped back, wiping what she would never admit was a stray tear from her eye.

“Sure, what is it?” Yang said, still in disbelief that she was getting off so easily. She was already thinking about how many chocolate chip pancakes it would take to make it up to Ruby in the morning.

“Read the texts, and listen to the voicemails,” Weiss said stonily, turning to leave the room.

“What?” Yang asked, suspecting this was going to be a worse punishment than it sounded at first.

Weiss paused at the door and looked back, her eyes somehow soft and frighteningly hard at the same time. “All of them.” And with that, she walked out, somehow turning what had seemed to Yang like a clean line drive into a triple play. Everyone’s out, home team wins. Again.

Yang slumped to the floor and buried her face in her hands for a moment to stifle a sob. Lying to her friends was killing her, but there was no way out now. After she composed herself she looked at her scroll.

“No time like the present.” She grumbled to herself as she opened the texts first.

**Ruby**

> _Hey Yang, hope you're having fun tonight, just wanted to check in!_
> 
> _Hey, just wanted to make sure you’re ok, haven’t heard from you._
> 
> _Hey, something bad happened to someone downtown and...you’re ok, right?_
> 
> _Please just text me back, I’m really worried_

Seeing Ruby progress from worry to panic was a gut punch for Yang and the voicemails were even worse. Weiss knew what she had sentenced her to, and what was even more baffling was she somehow knew that it was deserved. But that was the Ice Queen, she always cut straight to the heart of the matter even if you managed to fool her; somehow especially then. Yang vowed to do more than simply make it up. Once her work with Blake was done she would drop the fighting and come clean, to everyone. That would make things right. It would.

It had to.


	5. Family Dinner

Yang had known when she set her alarm that waking up would be torture, but she suspected sleeping in would reawaken the wrath of Weiss and was not willing to take that chance. In the name of peace, she found herself swatting ineffectually at her beeping scroll a mere 5 hours from the time she laid down after one of the most exhausting nights of her life. One brief and perfunctory shower later Yang tiptoed down the stairs. She stopped short when she saw that not only was Ruby still on the couch, but she was playing little spoon to a seemingly sound asleep Weiss. It would have been adorable if Yang wasn’t convinced she saw a disapproving look intended for her on the face of the woman so tenderly holding her sister. Yang continued her descent, skipping the squeaky third-from-the-last stair, and walked quietly back to the kitchen. Fortunately, breakfast was something they were always stocked for and before long Yang had coffee brewing, pancakes and french toast on the griddle, and bacon in the oven. Eggs would follow if people still looked hungry and Yang had even hauled out the mostly neglected juicer to see if she could really earn some brownie points.

She mostly succeeded in preparing things silently so it was the smell of food that stirred the others, mostly Ruby. Yang suspected that Weiss had been awake for a while now but was just letting her cuddle buddy sleep. Ruby came into the kitchen rubbing her eyes and Yang had to experience the heartbreak from last night all over again when she watched her little sister fully wake up and remember the anxiety she had fallen asleep with. Ruby’s eyes were full of relief as she dashed across the linoleum to deliver a leaping hug punctuated by a lecture about answering messages. Not wanting to make the moment about her Yang did her best to hide the depth of her guilt, discreetly wiping her face as her gremlin of a little sister finally climbed off of her.

Big silver eyes appraised her, at once mature and yet somehow still containing a hint of childish innocence. “Yang, don’t be upset, I’m not mad. I was just really worried about you,” Ruby said gently, which only made her feel worse, but she smiled at her sister’s concern.

“I’m ok, and I’m really really sorry I worried you,” Yang said, looking up as they were joined by a wide awake and obviously still salty Weiss. “Good morning,” she offered, hoping for a fresh start.

“Good morning Yang, so nice of you to make us breakfast,” Weiss sniped in return, pouring herself coffee despite the mug that had been offered to her placatingly.

Ok, still mad, Yang thought.

“Oh come on Weiss, she said she was sorry,” Ruby said, coming to her sister’s defense. For a moment Yang hoped that she just might be saved by the intervention. As long as Ruby didn’t bring up... “So where were you last night anyway?” That. As long as she didn’t bring up that.

“Yeah, Yang, where were you last night?” Weiss asked very pointedly.

“I was, uh, I was with Blake,” Yang said, not struggling at all to blush and look a bit shamefaced.

“Oooooh, do you have a girlfriend?” Ruby singsonged in delight.

“No! What are we, 12? No, she just, wanted to, you know, see me. Last night. Like friends do.” Wow, smooth, Yang thought. Definitely shot down those girlfriend rumors.

Weiss suddenly seemed very curious “Interesting, how late were you out?” If Yang hadn’t known better the question would have been the pinnacle of innocence.

“Pretty late, I uh, lost track of time,” Yang mumbled, loading up plates with everyone’s favorites.

Ruby almost dropped her plate as more of the night came back to her, “Oh! I hope you didn’t listen to all of those messages Yang, I was so tired and worked up and got really overly dramatic. Just delete them, ok?”

“Yup, sure, will do Rubes.” Yang had to bite her lip and focus on getting the bacon out of the oven as the memory of Ruby’s very real, very tangible fear in those messages from the night before replayed in her mind. Seeing her struggle seemed to melt some of the frosty anger Weiss still harbored because and as she came over to help Yang she made a point of resting her hand on her shoulder and meeting her eyes, ever so briefly.

Truce called, breakfast took on a much more relaxed and amicable tone. After they had all thoroughly stuffed themselves they retreated to the couch to digest. Shortly after they had all found sufficiently reclined positions Ruby sat up so quickly it briefly startled Yang into thinking something else was wrong until she saw the look of joy on her face. “Do you know what today is?” she asked excitedly.

“...no?” Yang said, confused. Her mind was still reeling over the past few days, whatever today was had completely slipped her mind.

“Sunday dinner with the gang! It’s the first time in ages we’ve all been free at the same time.” Ruby started to jump from her seat in excitement but instead flopped back down holding her stomach. “Man I should not have eaten so much.”

Yang chuckled and found she was genuinely excited, Sunday dinner used to be a weekly thing that the three of them had started back in college along with Pyrrha, Jaune, Ren, and Nora. In the past year, they were lucky if they could have one once a month and with Ruby’s schedule, she couldn’t make many of them. The common consensus in the group was that growing up was the worst.

“Whose turn is it to cook?” Yang asked sarcastically, knowing the answer long before the other girls replied simultaneously:

“Ren.”

Yang laughed, despite it already being an old joke five years ago. Ren always cooked. It had started as a rotation but that came to a stop when he could no longer stand to watch others mess up. That he happened to enjoy cooking and was truly excellent at it meant that no one argued when the new arrangement was put in place. “Sounds like a perfect day to me, want to play some video games in the meantime?” she asked, reaching for a controller.

Ruby looked down guiltily. “I should probably study,” she started to say, then changed her mind. “Eh, screw it, video games!” she shouted, throwing her arms in the air and drawing another hearty laugh from Yang. She knew that the girl sitting next to her was going to be a doctor in a little over a year but sometimes she still seemed so much like the little kid with scabby knees who used to follow her everywhere and get so excited just to be included.

Weiss was perusing something on her scroll, which made Yang nervous. Somehow she suspected this was about her, and she wasn’t sure the truce was permanent. “You know Yang,” Weiss said, not looking up. “It looks like we don’t have any guests coming. Seems like a good opportunity for us to meet your new friend. Don’t you think?”

There it was, the other shoe dropping. Classic Weiss.

Thinking about it though Yang figured it wasn’t the worst idea. It gave her a chance to solidify their story, and to create the expectation that they were going to be spending more time together going forward. Besides, it was nice spending time with Blake in a social setting, and it would be that much better doing so without first fighting for their lives.

“Sure. What the hell? I’ll pass along the invite,” she said, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt.

\---

Blake absentmindedly reached for her tea as she skimmed yet another obscure online forum. It was the latest that had popped up on her search for White Fang communications and she was still trying to decide if what she was reading was elaborate code or just some kids yammering about the latest video game. After scanning a few more posts she decided definitely the latter unless the group had started a really odd side hustle. By the time she got around to actually taking a sip of her tea, it had long since gone cold, and she sighed as she got up to go boil more water. Despite getting a full 5 or 6 hours of sleep, which was quite a treat for Blake, she felt groggy and unfocused. It didn’t help that every few minutes her mind slipped from her research to a certain blonde with a propensity for revolutionary ideas and helping crazy women she had just met. She decided a change of scenery might be in order, hoping it would clear her head.

Blake turned off the kettle and walked back through her small and relatively empty apartment. She had been in Vale for almost six months but hadn’t really bothered to buy anything beyond some basic furniture. Despite her decade of normal(ish) life, she had never really picked up the habit of accumulating anything, and it was occurring to her now that if Yang ever saw this place she would suspect her new partner was a serial killer. Then again, that might only be slightly worse than her learning what Blake really was. Feeling her thoughts spiraling in an unproductive direction she knew it was definitely time for fresh air. She put on a light jacket and one of her many bows and took the stairs down to the street.

As the front door of her building swung shut and her eyes adjusted to the bright sunshine she reached for her scroll to check her messages. Given it was Sunday she didn’t expect to hear from work but her various sources had a tendency to contact her whenever they felt like it, and sure enough, she had a message, though from an unknown number:

> _Hey Blake! Not sure what the weekend of an ace reporter is like but on the off chance you didn’t have plans this evening my friends are dying to meet the lady who dropped me off super late last night. Pretty sure the implication was if they don’t meet you they’re going to make my life a living hell. Also turns out there was a mugging last night involving a blonde girl and it would be great to have some backup in explaining to them what I was doing while not being mugged._
> 
> _Also also, there will be food. Good food. Lots of it._
> 
> _My place at 5. If you’re interested. -_ _Yang_

Blake read the messages several times, trying to contain the giddiness she now associated very firmly with the sender. It could just be a friendly gesture, or could even be more, but she pushed that thought down. The mention of the mugging meant she needed help with her alibi, which seemed more than fair given what Blake was asking her new partner to do. She felt guilty taking time away from her research but tried to justify it to herself as part of the mission. She was pretty sure that the people she was seeking didn’t take breaks for dinner parties, but if she messed things up with Yang she was back to square one.

As she paced around the block the loner realized how wholly unprepared she was for something so basic. She had spent years keeping a low profile, burying herself in work. It’s not that she had never had friends but she kept most of them at arm’s reach and generally avoided hanging out with groups of people. Despite being fearless when questioning people in her investigations social situations were different. She never knew how to act around a crowd in a casual setting, what to say. Gods, this was going to be a disaster!

At that Blake began mentally berating herself. Here she was asking someone she had only just met to risk life and limb and she was going to chicken out on a social gathering? Besides, if left to her own devices she was likely to have an apple and some tuna straight from the can for dinner so this would undoubtedly be a step up in the culinary department. Having completed her circuit of the block she pulled her scroll back out and replied.

> _Hey Yang! Not quite how I expected you to contact me but certainly not unwelcome. I would love to come tonight. I’ll see you at 5._
> 
> _B_

\--

Blake was there at 4:59, only as late as she was because she had taken a few side streets to kill time and not get there any earlier. The last thing she wanted to do was come off like a weirdo before the night even started. Finally, she pulled up in front of the house she had first approached a little over 12 hours prior and turned off the engine. After a steadying breath, she grabbed the bottle of wine she had brought and climbed out of her little car. As she marched up to the house, which looked mercifully quiet, she tried to calm herself. Just a dinner with a few people, no big deal, relax.

Right as she was reaching out to knock on the door it burst open and three women piled out simultaneously, laughing and talking as they did. Head and shoulders above the other two Yang led the way and looped her arm seamlessly through Blake’s as she passed, pulling her along while one of the other two locked the door behind them. In her shock, she was barely able to respond to the greetings that were flung her way and it was only a block or so down the road when she managed to get her bearings enough to speak up.

“Where are we going? I thought we were having dinner?” She asked, trying to play it cool and failing miserably.

“We are!” Yang replied cheerfully. “But not at our place, way too small. We always eat at our friends’ apartment, they have a much bigger dining room. Don’t worry, it’s not that far of a walk. By the way, this is my sister Ruby and our, I want to say acquaintance and occasional ally, Weiss.” The first girl nodded and smiled pleasantly and the second took the ribbing good-naturedly, her piercing blue eyes landed on Blake right as recognition hit her.

“Yes, Weiss Schnee. Former heiress to the Schnee Dust Company blah blah blah. Are we done with the staring now?” Weiss only looked slightly miffed and fortunately missed the full range of emotions on Blake’s face at this revelation. The Schnee Dust Company held many associations for her, few good, but that wasn’t something she could address here and now. Still, Weiss Schnee, here? Just what else was this girl who so confidently held her arm hiding up her sleeves?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s lovely to meet both of you.” Blake managed, trying to recover.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Weiss said. She wasn’t being cold, exactly, but she was certainly observing Blake closely. It felt like she was preparing a particularly difficult final exam for a student she knew to be wholly unprepared.

Fortunately Ruby could not have been more different. “Yang doesn’t normally bring girls around, so I’m super stoked to meet you. Come walk with me and I’ll tell you embarrassing stories about her.” With that the smaller girl grabbed Blake’s other arm and playfully tugged her up ahead, leaving the other two several paces behind as she started in on her favorite tale of misadventure.

“Don’t listen to her, it’s all lies! Unless she says good stuff, that’s mostly true!” Yang called after them.

“You have a pretty serious crush there Ms. Xiao Long,” Weiss said thoughtfully, careful to keep her voice from carrying. She looked up at her tall friend, noting her dopey grin.

“I. Look, I just met her. I mean yeah, there’s definitely something about her, but I’m not getting ahead of myself. Thank you for your concern though.” Yang was blushing furiously by the time she finished, and even she could hear the false ring of her words.

“I’m not concerned, just observing,” Weiss said neutrally. “It’s. Nice. To see you like this. I think it’s good for you. Just make sure you know what you’re getting into. For once in your life, look before you leap.”

“I am a paragon of caution,” Yang said with as much mock sincerity as she could muster and drew one of the most exasperated faces she had ever seen from a girl who was a master of such.

“Uh-huh. Well, we’re here. Hopefully, your new girlfriend gets along with the family.” Weiss said as she strode up toward the door where Ruby and Blake were waiting without listening to the stammering denials that followed her.

As Yang approached she saw that Blake was laughing so hard she was shaking, and the mirth on Ruby’s face made it clear that she had enjoyed their walk far too much. Blake looked up at her as though about to say something but was gripped by another fit of laughter. Yang could never be mad at Ruby and knew this was her way of accepting Blake to the group, but she would be neglecting her duties as a big sister if she just let it slide. “Hearsay! Slander! It’s all lies! Come here you!” she shouted, chasing Ruby into the building as the door buzzed and let them in, putting her in a headlock as they piled into the elevator and threatening to give her the mother of all noogies. A few moments later they arrived at their floor and tumbled from the elevator directly in front of an open door held by Pyrrha, who burst out into her infectious laughter at the sight of the supposedly adult sisters in the midst of a wrestling match on her doorstep. Smiling broadly she welcomed them all in, hugging those she knew tightly and giving Blake a very warm handshake upon their introduction.

“It is so lovely to meet you, Blake. Sunday dinner isn’t complete without a guest or two, and it’s always nice to meet someone new. Please come in, let me take your jackets.” Blake found herself liking Pyrrha immediately, as most did, and placed her jacket in the woman’s long, graceful arms along with the others. With everyone’s things in tow, Pyrrha bustled off to stash them in one of the bedrooms while her guests took off their shoes and walked down the hall to the dining room.

Blake caught up with Yang quietly in the process and leaned in close to her. “I saw Pyrrha’s name while I was researching your work. Are all of the people in your lab drop-dead gorgeous, or is it just you two?” She murmured, still struck by the statuesque figure who had greeted them. How did any work get done in that lab?

“I... wait, what?” Yang had started to respond but her brain seemed to have short-circuited somewhere around the part where Blake had called her gorgeous, and she looked utterly befuddled as they entered the expansive kitchen and dining area. Before her brain caught up they were assaulted with the sounds and smells of cooking and shuffling chairs and finally the excited chatter of friends who’ve known each other for ages but don’t see each other nearly as often as they’d like. Introductions were made and just as Blake was starting to feel like she could totally manage to shake a few hands and remember some names she learned that Nora was a hugger, and found herself embraced with what felt like the arms of a gorilla but were, in fact, those of a tiny woman with orange hair.

As she checked to make sure the cracking sound she had heard wasn’t one of her ribs Blake and the rest were shooed from the kitchen by Ren to go sit around the large table. Blake took a seat in the corner and curled her feet under herself, trying to be inconspicuous so as not to intrude on this intimate space. She was foiled in this as Yang slid a chair up next to her and plopped down quite conspicuously. Not that she could go anywhere without being noticed, Blake thought to herself, but still.

This was soon revealed as a tactic not to draw her out so much as to give her a reprieve when necessary from the rowdy and inquisitive group as well as context when facts were thrown out that Blake was unfamiliar with. Yang was clearly at home here but knew it was a lot for a new person and could obviously see how overwhelmed her companion was. Blake had known her to be smart but gained a new respect for how socially perceptive the chatty blonde was. She wondered how often people saw that and mistook her openness for lack of depth.

The night began the way it usually did for the busy group: catching up on developments in everyone’s studies or work since the last time they were all together. It took Blake a minute to catch the rhythm of the conversation, but she eventually found it and settled in to listen as Pyrrha chimed in while she set the table.

“Ruby, it’s so nice to finally see you! I feel like you’re always at the hospital these days. What finally got you out?”

“Easy rotation this month, finally. Radiology, not my thing but useful to know.” the soon to be doctor said over a mouthful of dinner roll.

“Ruby’s a third year in med school, planning to do surgery.” Yang gave as an aside to Blake, beaming with obvious pride.

Ruby had obviously inquired about Pyrrha’s work, as the hostess was giving an update. “Oh you know, the usual. The hard thing with my research is that sometimes I make no progress for so long and then suddenly things start advancing quickly. Mostly I’m plugging away at the same computer vision problems I was working on the last time I saw you.” The tall redhead shrugged the frustration away and moved things along. “Anyway, what’s new with you Weiss?”

“Also the usual, studying and planning corporate takeovers. My internship isn’t exactly fascinating but it’s with one of my father’s main rivals, so I am taking a bit of personal satisfaction from that.”

In a loud stage whisper, Yang added, “Weiss is doing a law degree and MBA simultaneously, real slacker.”

“Don’t forget working on getting my father booted from my family company, that’s a full-time job in and of itself,” Weiss added nonchalantly as she daintily picked at an hors-d'oeuvre that Ren had brought by at some point.

Enjoying herself Yang obliged in her ridiculous pantomime of a whisper, “oh right, and also working on getting her father...”

“Yes Yang, I heard, thank you,” Blake said, stifling a giggle.

Weiss smirked slightly at this exchange but didn’t look over at their corner, turning her attention instead to the tall blond man with kind eyes. “What do you think, Jaune? Ready for our exam next week?”

Yang turned to her for another aside but Blake patted her on the shoulder and shushed her. “Yeah, also law, I gathered.” The strong shoulder under her hand shook with silent laughter, but at least she was able to hear the reply.

“Ugh, you know I hate tax law, it’s so dull, and honestly, who even cares?” Jaune said, slumping back in his chair dramatically.

“I assume tax lawyers and accountants and everyone who pays taxes.” Weiss shot back.

“Fine, whatever, so it matters. I don’t have to like it.”

Feeling an opportunity to directly participate Blake jumped in. “So what type of law do you care about?” she asked.

“I want to do human rights work. Well, human and faunus rights.” The tall man blushed but didn’t look away, clearly sincere. “I’ve been volunteering for a group that advocates for minors that have had run-ins with the law since undergrad, and it turns out there’s a pretty big population of at-risk faunus youth so we do a lot of work with the Faunus Civil Liberties Union. I’ve been offered a chance to work for them when I graduate and I think I’m going to take it.” Having stated his ambition so directly he became suddenly bashful, rubbing his neck and looking down, but at a gentle touch from Pyrrha, he straightened and finished. “I hope someday I can use my voice to amplify those that are often silenced.”

Blake was struck by the intensity of his conviction, how much he honestly cared. She briefly wondered how different her life might have been if there were more people in the world like him, but dismissed that as an unproductive fantasy. She tried to bring herself back to the present and found herself nearly overwhelmed by the outpouring of love she could see emanating from the statuesque woman beside Jaune. Blake had guessed they were a couple, and the ring on the perfect hand resting on his shoulder confirmed it. What they had was so powerful, so palpable, that Blake felt her heart-rending as images of another tall redhead with far crueler eyes were dragged, unbidden, from her subconscious. After she wrangled her wild emotions she looked back up at the idealistic man across from her.

“I think that’s very noble.” She said simply, hoping that he heard how much she meant it, that his was a goal that she truly respected. The shy smile she got in return let her know her words were received as intended, and the conversation lulled for a moment, no one in a rush to move on from such a genuine exchange.

Before the companionable silence had a chance to transform into an awkward one it was broken by an enormous belch. Everyone turned toward Nora, who was doing a poor job of acting sorry, and the whole table burst out laughing as Ren entered with a serving plate of food, shaking his head. “Oh Nora, you are endlessly charming.” he deadpanned.

“You love it, Ren, admit it.” She said playfully, pulling him in for a kiss as he tried to walk past.

“Yes dear,” came his long-suffering response, but he couldn’t completely hide his smile as he went back to the kitchen for another dish. Blake didn’t totally get how they worked as a couple, but something about them just seemed to fit.

After a few more trips and some belated offers to help that he waved away Ren came and joined them and they all dug in. Blake was amazed at the quality as well as the sheer quantity of food and relished everything. She had never been much of a cook and since she was only ever feeding herself wasn’t overly inspired to learn. After a few bites, the gang started offering compliments to the chef and she eagerly joined in. “Ren this is truly amazing, the fish especially almost brought a tear to my eye. Where did you learn to cook like this?” she asked.

Ren shrugged as he passed Nora another plate. “Just practice and experimentation. Cooking has always been very relaxing for me.” He said all of this as though he hadn’t just placed a four-course meal in front of 8 people, and Blake was all the more curious for how casual he was about it.

“So you aren’t, like, a professional chef or anything, it’s just a hobby?” She pressed, realizing too late she was slipping toward reporter mode and trying to dial it back.

Ren was far from perturbed, however, smiling softly and shaking his head. It was Nora who jumped in to answer, something it seemed she likely did a lot for her reticent partner. “Ren’s actually one of the best electrical engineers at Beacon! He’s incredible at taking giant tech that eggheads like Yang come up with and miniaturizing it. He actually helped with her prototype arms.”

“Dude is a wizard at making things tiny,” Yang added enthusiastically. “Fortunately we got him to focus that skill on tech so he stopped making us 47-course meals where the main course was a steak the size of a bottle cap,” she added, winking at Ren over a mouthful of very normally proportioned pork.

“Some people just do not respect my craft.” The quiet man replied in mock exasperation, looking subtly pleased with the praise.

“And how about you, Nora?” Blake added, sensing that the introverted Ren was likely nearing the end of his tolerance for direct attention, a thing she could empathize with. “What do you do?”

“I make stuff!” came her cheery reply, clearing up nothing as she savaged a pork bone that looked like it had very little left to give.

“Gods Nora, you are an animal,” Yang said, her tone somewhere between disgust and admiration. Turning to Blake she added. “She has a dual Master’s in materials science and mechanical engineering and is the best metal worker and fabricator in...well, possibly in the entire kingdom. She mentioned Ren helped with the design of the arm but failed to mention that I commissioned her to actually build most of the mechanical aspects of it.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said, I make stuff,” Nora said with an impish grin.

Blake took a moment to let the careers of the people at this table sink in, and she realized that she was undoubtedly sitting at the most highly educated and accomplished table she had ever been invited to. She also realized she was woefully unqualified by comparison and had trouble not feeling like she did not belong.

As if on queue the conversation, which had continued during her brief mental absence, turned back to her and she was drawn in by the repetition of her name and Yang’s sturdy elbow jabbing her ribs. “Blake?” Pyrrha said, apparently for the second time, “What is it that you do?”

Blake deflated, ready to let them down with her mundane answer. “Uh, I’m a reporter for the Vale Daily News.” She said trying to sound aloof and like she knew it was no big deal.

Yang put her arm casually across Blake’s shoulders, giving her a squeeze of reassurance. “Don’t let her fool you, she’s a hotshot. You should read some of her stuff, it’s really something.”

“Yang left out the best part! They met because Blake was doing a piece on her,” Ruby exclaimed, ignoring the subtle attempts by Weiss to try to silence her.

“Really?” Nora asked, interested enough that she stopped her loaded fork midway on its voyage from her plate to her mouth.

“Oh I read that, I was going to bring it up but I completely forgot! I didn’t realize you were the one who wrote the piece, Blake!” Pyrrha exclaimed, reaching for her scroll. “That article was so amazing, and did a great job of showing off how important Yang’s work is.” She tapped a few times through various screens and pulled it up, passing it over to Nora. “Here, read it!”

The fork still dangling in midair, Nora took the scroll and read the article, her head bobbing and her smile growing with each sentence. “Damn girl, that’s awesome!” She said, seemingly to either Yang, Blake, or likely both.

Jaune reached out for the scroll and read it, Ren peering over his shoulder, and then offered it to Ruby and Weiss who waved him off saying they’d seen it earlier.

“It’s not as long as I wanted, my editor said there was too much speculation in my first draft. I don’t know, does it do Yang’s work justice?” Blake asked, feeling uncertain. Usually, her writing was the one thing she was sure of, but she felt practically illiterate in this room of geniuses.

“Blake, it’s wonderful.” Pyrrha said with a glowing smile, “Thank you for showing your readers what we already see in our brilliant and talented friend.”

Everyone else jumped in to add their praises, each picking different parts that they particularly liked, not seeming to notice as Yang became increasingly withdrawn during the exchange. Reassured by their words Blake relaxed back into her seat, and in doing so caught sight of Yang’s cheeks turning a deep crimson, her head hung so she was almost hidden by her long hair. Before she could even begin to puzzle out what had come over the usually exuberant woman she was up and moving in a flurry of gold, grabbing empty plates that needed clearing. As she went she did her best to emulate her own typical cocky swagger but failed to fool anyone present. When she had a handful of dishes she practically ran to the sink, keeping her face studiously turned away from the table. She had clearly hoped that busily washing the dishes would cover for her shift in mood, but Blake could see agitation written in every line of her body, in every visibly tense muscle standing out along her neck and shoulders. Looking around she saw that the rest of the group saw it as well.

Weiss stared at her friend’s back, the wheels in her mind visibly turning. She started to rise and then sat back down, turning her shrewd eyes to the newest member of the group. Where Blake anticipated anger there was instead resignation and an assignment. A quick sideways jerk of her snowy head was all it took to issue the command, brooking no argument. Hesitating only briefly, Blake stood and padded silently but quickly across the room.

Approaching the sink like a shadow, she reached out, stopping her hand in midair, unsure of what apology, exactly, was necessary. It was clear she had upset her somehow, but how? All pretense at washing dishes gone, Yang threw down the dishtowel and announced she needed some fresh air before storming toward the back of the apartment and its waiting fire escape. Blake, totally at a loss, looked back at the still silent room for help. With a knowing sigh, Pyrrha stood up from her seat and crossed the room in a few long strides. Seeing the look of fear on her guest’s face she held her hands up placatingly, and in one more stride, the gesture became a gentle embrace.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t waste your time thinking this is your fault. If anything, it’s mine, I know how hard things are for her at work right now and I wasn’t thinking. That said, I do think you’re the right one to go talk to her now.” With that Blake found herself gently but inexorably led down the hall, then directed onward by a gesture towards the last bedroom on the right. A gentle pat on her shoulder signaled the departure of her silent guide and she was left to complete the journey alone.

Hoping against hope that Pyrrha had been right, Blake tried to clear her conscience of guilt and steady her racing heart. She could already feel that voice inside her starting up that told her all the ways in which she was toxic, how she was to blame for everything. She did her best to send it back from whence it came while she took the last handful steps down across the darkroom and towards the open window, feeling like an outlaw headed for the chopping block; her life a mere formality of a few steps and one quick swing.

Gathering herself, she stepped nimbly out through the window onto the fire escape, seeing her quarry on the other end looking out over the street below. Hardly turning to see who had joined her, Yang let out a single hoarse laugh, “Was it Pyrrha or Weiss?”

“Pardon?” Blake asked, slightly off-balance from the unexpected question.

“Who sent you? Pyrrha, or Weiss?”

“Oh.” Blake took up a similar position leaning on the rail, using the pivot to sidle a bit closer but still leaving plenty of space between them. “Uh, both, I guess? First Weiss, then Pyrrha. Why?”

“No reason, just figured it was at least one of them,” she said. Blake waited for her to go on but was greeted with silence. A slight breeze stirred golden locks which were brushed aside slowly, troubled eyes traveling everywhere but the one place they wanted to be. “I guess what I really want to know is, why did you come, besides my friends making you?”

“They didn’t make me. Well, ok, Weiss sort of did...” she said. With a sidelong glance, she caught the barest hint of an upward twitch to those full lips. Good, she thought, maybe I can do this. “But that’s not why I came. I just wanted to know what I did wrong, so I could apologize, maybe make it up to you,” she admitted. The knot in her stomach grew as her words came faster, starting to stumble into each other, “I mean you’re doing so much for me and here I am ruining everything like always but I can make it better. I’ll retract the story if you...”

“Stop.”

Blake’s breath caught, old instincts telling her to brace for a blow that thankfully never came. Eventually, she found the courage to look up, waiting to see rage, rejection, so many other horrible things that she associated with her frequent failures. Instead, she saw layers of sadness.

“Blake, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Yang said slowly.

“But”

“No, stop, you didn’t. And for the record, even if you had you don’t need to worry about me flying off the handle at you. I know I have a bit of a temper, more than a bit, but that’s not something that I take out on the people around me. It’s not something I would ever turn on you. Ever.” With that Yang stood a little straighter, looking Blake directly in the eye with an intensity that she found strangely comforting.

“But, no, just, please let me ask,” Blake said, quashing Yang’s objection and going on. “What was it about my article that upset you so much?”

Yang immediately deflated, hunching back over the railing. “I don’t know. I read it and it was great, you know? Your writing is fantastic and you really did a really amazing job of framing it all so perfectly. But it was something about the way everyone was talking about it that just...reminded me how much I’m not that woman you wrote about in your article.” Blake cocked her head but didn’t interrupt. “I’m not a focused genius with a vision. Am I bright? Sure, smart even. But I’m where I am mostly through dumb luck. I happened to be in class when Dr. Polendina gave a guest lecture in the first model of his chair. It was the coolest piece of tech I had ever seen, but when he was leaving the room one of the legs bumped the corner of the desk. He couldn’t feel it and the unit kept getting the message to move forward, and he went down in a heap.”

Yang smiled at the memory, the smile growing when she saw the concern in Blake’s eyes. “He was fine, and being the man he is he was laughing his ass off while we all rushed to help him up. I always sat in the back of the lecture hall so no one would see when I fell asleep in class, which I did. A lot. But not that day. I rushed down with everyone else but I got tangled up by some kid near the front. I didn’t hit the ground though, my hand shot out and caught the desk, before I had even registered I was falling. That was when the idea hit, what if those limbs had reflexes? That’s where this whole thing came from. I paid attention in class one time out of a thousand, I almost fell, and I had an idea. Pyrrha made me submit my proposal and put in a good word with Pietro. Many good words, I’m sure. That’s it, that’s why I am where I am.”

Blake shook her head. “None of that invalidates your work, Yang.”

But Yang’s momentum couldn't be slowed. “Sure, but where does my work stand? I’ve got a neat little toy arm that can’t actually be used, and in and of itself, represents little progress. I took the brains out of a smart piece of tech, fame and fortune here I come. Oh, and the actual unique idea? It would work better as a torture device than for its intended use. In fact, if I had set out to design a machine that causes pain I doubt I could have done better. My funding is going to run out in a year, maybe two, and I have no real way to convince any organization to extend that time frame. That’s where my work stands.” Yang shouted the last into the space beyond the fire escape, tears falling freely.

“And my work is probably the best part of who I am, that’s the real problem. You wrote that article about this person that at best is just one part of me and more likely is just an image I project. What happens when everyone sees the rest of me, the real me? The parts that aren’t symmetrical and perfect? The parts that don’t make sense.” She turned, and though Blake wanted to pull back she forced herself to stand her ground. The woman facing her was definitely angry, but none of it was directed at Blake. None of it was even aimed outward at all. But she still couldn’t move closer as Yang continued to bare her soul.

“I’ll tell you what happens, Blake. People leave, they always do. Those six people at that table? They’re it. I don’t talk to people from high school, I don’t have anyone from my childhood except my little sister. And you know what scares the shit out of me? Those people, those people who aren’t just my friends, but my family? Even they don’t know all of me. They know so much, they’ve seen so many sides of me, so many flaws, but they don’t know the side of me that gets in a fucking ring and kicks the shit out of people for fun and money. What happens when they do? Spoiler alert, they’ll leave too!” Yang said, struggling to keep her voice down so no one else could hear.

“Yang, they wouldn’t-”

“Wouldn’t they?” Yang said quietly, her physical and emotional exhaustion asserting itself. “You weren’t there last night; when Weiss reamed me out. When I had to listen to my sister crying as she left me voicemails thinking I was hurt and unable to reach me. Can you imagine how they would react if they knew the truth? I don’t think they’d ever forgive me Blake, and I don’t know that I could blame them.” Defeated, she sat heavily on the stairs leading to the roof, her tears building into full-body sobs.

Blake stepped gingerly over and sat down beside her, despite the two of them barely fitting in the tight space. Tentatively she placed an arm across shaking shoulders and leaned down to rest her face in those golden locks. She inhaled deeply by reflex, and was intoxicated by a smell she could only describe as Yang; traces of tree bark and leaves and sunshine mixed with the smell of leather and the salty-sweet tang of sweat. Mostly it smelled like a place to call home, and for just a moment Blake let herself feel like she could. Remembering herself and why she was there she pulled back, just a little. She couldn’t deny the sense of intimacy she felt, but they barely knew each other and she couldn’t let herself get too emotionally entangled and mess things up when they had a job to do.

“Yang, hey, look at me.” The blonde turned her head to meet her gaze, and Blake had to resist following that sweet smell and focus on the task at hand. “I know we just met, and I would never claim to know all of you so soon or, to be honest, ever. You don’t strike me as simple or easy to figure out. But I have seen quite a bit of you in the past few days, including the Dragon.” she added, teasing gently, “and you haven’t scared me off yet. So don’t go assuming that those that have known you for years would be so quick to abandon you.”

“Yeah well, not everyone is as brave as you,” Yang replied, but her tears were slowing and a small smile of gratitude played at her lips only to be dashed when she saw Blake’s eyes fall away and her shoulders slumped.

“Don’t say that.” She murmured.

“Say what?” Yang asked, genuinely confused.

“I... nothing,” Blake said, reminding herself she was there to comfort Yang, not have a pity party for herself. To avoid a follow-up question she quickly changed the subject. “If nothing else, you’re definitely stuck with me for the near future. You’re my best lead, and honestly, the only backup. I couldn’t do all of this without you.”

Yang wiped her eyes and cleared her throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Funny you should mention that,” She said, fishing in her pocket for her scroll and handing it over. “while I was having my little temper tantrum I got a text. My next fight is in two weeks. We should start making plans soon.”

Blake scanned the message, a simple time, date, and address from a blocked number. “Is this how they always contact you?” She asked, switching gears immediately.

Yang nodded, “Yeah, I tried tracing the message once, but no luck. Hacking isn’t really my thing but I didn’t want to ask anyone for help to avoid awkward questions.” Unable to argue the point, Blake handed back the scroll, “But more than that it never seemed that important. They text, I show up, I take their money, that’s all there is to it.”

“Well, that used to be it. Now you know there’s more going on, and we’re going to find out what Ms. Xiao Long, as partners.” With that Blake stood and offered her hand, helping the surprisingly heavy woman to her feet.

Yang snorted at the overly optimistic tone, but let it lift her spirits. “Indeed Ms. Amaryllis, as partners.”

Blake couldn’t help but visibly flinch and was met with a curious look as she did. “Um, this may sound weird, but could you, not, call me that?” she asked, looking away.

Cocking an eyebrow but not asking the question it represented Yang tried again, “Blake?”

“Yeah, thanks, uh thank you. I, just, never liked my last name you know? Seems kind of hypocritical to complain after...” Blake stumbled, unable to truly justify her silly request.

“Blake.” Was the firm reply. “It’s fine. I’m glad you told me. You don’t have to put up with shit, even minor shit if it bothers you. From me or anyone.” Yang said all of this as though it were a matter of course, but to Blake’s ears, it was like being given a rare gift that she didn’t feel deserving of. Before she could explain what that simple gesture meant Ruby’s cheery voice broke the tension.

“You love birds coming back inside, or what? We’re going to play charades!” she said, her head poking through the window and concern masked by a teasing smile.

“You’re so dead you little pipsqueak!” Yang called, leaping through the window and running towards the now empty door frame. Blake was impressed by the display of speed, although one would have to be fast to frequently tease the Dragon herself. She took one more moment alone on the balcony to collect her thoughts and let herself at least partially process the unexpected intensity of the past few days. She had known her tip on the underground fights would be big, but this was not at all where she imagined it would lead. Hearing the warm murmur of conversation down the hall brought her back to herself and, not wanting to be the weirdo who hid on the balcony all night, she stepped lightly through the window and then reached back to close it behind her.

As Blake returned to the dining area she was greeted by Ren, who offered her a steaming mug. “Any chance we have another tea drinker in the house? I made a pot of Jasmine.”

“You do! Jasmine would be lovely, thank you, Ren.” Blake wrapped her hands around the mug and let the warmth seep into them. How had she been standing out on that fire escape so long without realizing she was freezing? She took a tiny sip but the liquid was still too hot. “I take it we’re in the minority here?”

Ren nodded quietly. His expression loving but just a little judgmental of the barbarians he called friends, and he and Blake moved to join the rest, sharing a quiet laugh along the way.

“Now that you have your hot leaf water, can we start?” Nora asked, exasperated.

This just made Ren and Blake laugh harder, much to Nora’s confusion, but neither of the tea drinkers cared to explain. The newly rearranged chairs had been divided into two groups, and Ren went to sit by Nora, kissing the top of her head as his only response to her questioning look. Blake took the chair that Yang had clearly saved for her and was not sad to see that it was closer than strictly necessary.

As she settled herself Pyrrha caught her eye briefly, mouthing the words “Thank you,” before turning and laughing at whatever Jaune had said. The moment passed so quickly that Blake wasn’t sure if it was even meant for her and didn’t have time to decide before Ruby lept up and faced everyone else, declaring the start of the game.

Soon everyone was laughing and shouting at each other, and Blake found herself drawn into the fun despite herself. At first, she was frustrated at how abysmal she was at both acting out and guessing the answers, but it was worth it every time she heard Yang burst into laughter at her antics. Seeing her reactions only spurred her on to greater heights of absurdity, which drew more hysterics. Weiss was less obviously amused, frequently telling both of them to focus as they were falling behind, but the obvious effort she was putting into hiding her smile showed that she only partially meant it.

A few hours later (“Ugh, I hate that 10 o’clock is late now, being an adult sucks!” Ruby declared grumpily) the girls started gathering their things to leave. All the while everyone promised each other they would try to make schedules work to get together again soon, hoping it was true, and knowing it likely wasn’t. As they said their thank-yous and goodbyes and exchanged hugs Blake was surprised to find herself included like everyone else. As she turned to leave after a final warm embrace from Pyrrha the tall woman stopped her. “You’re welcome here anytime Blake. Don’t be a stranger.”

Such a simple sentiment, and at face value, nothing more than a generic platitude, but said in a tone that offered so much more; the offer was of home, of family. Gratitude for that offer was followed by a wave of guilt so powerful that Blake had to strain with every ounce of her self-control to keep her expression neutral, to not admit to the danger she was bringing to their family, to Yang, to not confess everything to this lovely amazon and beg her forgiveness. It was made all the more painful by the yearning Blake felt for exactly what was being offered. Because she was a stranger, to everyone, everywhere. Always.

Family had no place in Blake’s life, not anymore. She had run from hers so long ago she had forgotten what it felt like to be around one. Even friends were rare for her, and here were these people she had just met, opening their home to her, offering her a seat at the table. It was so kind, but it was far too much, like bringing a starving woman to a buffet.

Blake blinked rapidly and nodded, unable to express even a fraction of the gratitude she felt, or the guilt. Before she could ruin the moment she turned to follow the others back to the elevator and out into the night.

Yang and Ruby chattered ceaselessly as the four ambled home, clearly still wound up from the gathering. Eventually, they pulled ahead, talking and bickering and generally inhabiting their own little world, leaving Blake and Weiss to follow along quietly at a more measured pace.

“I generally find it’s best to just let them do their thing when they’re like this,” Weiss said fondly. “I would never admit it to them but I find it kind of adorable.”

It was obvious to Blake how much the woman next to her cared for those two, and there was clearly a long history between the women that she wasn’t (yet, she hoped) privy to. Weiss had been the biggest surprise of the evening, not at all what Blake would have expected from the heiress (ex heiress, she reminded herself) of the Schnee family. She was jolted from her musings when the soft look she was observing hardened and turned her way.

“I appreciate what you did for Yang tonight,” Weiss said. Blake waited for the rest, knowing this was not just an expression of gratitude. “I really do. But Yang is clearly,” here she paused, measuring her words, “invested, in whatever this is. In you.” Blake tried to interject but Weiss was having none of it. “I’m not here to debate this. You two just met, but I know Yang well enough to know where this is headed, so I’ll be blunt: don’t come into this half-cocked. That girl up there? She only knows how to go all-in with people. It makes her a wonderful friend, but it also makes her vulnerable. Well, that and her past.”

She knew she should stay silent, but as usual, curiosity got the better of Blake. “What happened?”

“You’ll have to get that one from Yang someday, once you’ve earned it.” The tightness in her lips showed that Weiss felt she had said too much, but she soldiered on, “The point is I’m not asking you to make some sort of lifetime commitment, but you better not be here to take what you can from her only to bail at the first opportunity.”

“Is there an ‘or else’ you’d like to add to that?” Blake asked, trying and mostly failing to muster indignation as they reached the driveway of the girls’ home.

Ruby got to the door first, digging in her pockets for her keys. As she did Weiss turned to face Blake, her pale blue eyes almost luminescent in the glare of the white streetlights. “No, there isn’t.” She reached out and squeezed Blake’s hand, the look on her face showing a mix of emotions, none of them anger. “Just don’t,” she said quietly.

With that she spun gracefully on her heel and walked through the door Ruby had just opened, the timing so precise Blake would have sworn it was rehearsed. She would have laughed too, had it not been for the sinking feeling in her stomach. If there had been anger, or threats, or possessiveness in that request it would have given her something to push back on, but there hadn’t been. It was firm but came from such a place of love that it couldn’t help but pass right through all of her defenses and strike true.

Because Weiss had been right.

Blake was using her friend, even if she did also happen to like her. She needed an in to follow her only lead on the White Fang, and here she was: her golden ticket, as it were, and Yang had offered herself up immediately for no other reason than she had been asked. Blake wasn’t one to think much further ahead than her next objective, but something about that cold warning suddenly had her casting her thoughts ahead.

Where was all of this going? What if it was a dead-end, or simply brought her to another lead? What happened then, when she no longer needed the blonde warrior? Could she really justify spending Saturday night ringside and Sunday evening eating dinner and playing charades if it didn’t further her investigation? Worse: what if she succeeded? What if she got the evidence she needed and broke the story wide open? Then what? With no excuse to move on, she would be so tempted to stay, but her past would come to light sooner or later, and then what? The thought of being rejected by Yang was just as painful as the idea of leaving her.

Fuck.

She started when she felt a rough hand squeeze her own and looking up she found herself face to face with the subject of her fearful imaginings.

“You ok, Blake?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, just gathering wool,” she said. It was an old saying her father used to be fond of, Blake hadn’t heard it in well over a decade and wasn’t sure why it had come to mind at that moment.

“Heh, at the rate you were going you probably had enough for a decent sweater or three,” Yang said, looking pleased with the groan her poor attempt at a joke drew but then growing serious. “Thanks. For before. I don’t know what it is about you but I can’t help but tell you everything. So. Yeah. Thanks.” As she spoke she had drawn closer, and from barely a hand’s breadth away her eyes searched Blake’s for something, hopeful but unsure if it was there.

Before she could be found out Blake pulled back a step, removing her hand from the light and welcoming grasp. Those eyes, that touch, there was an invitation there, another offer. Not a demand, and not a request, nothing specific or expectant. She didn’t even think Yang was going to try to invite her in for a nightcap or some other flimsy premise. It just felt like she was being offered a place, except this wasn’t around a table with friends, it was in Yang’s life, in her heart.

Another step back finally brought Blake out of the bubble of warmth that seemed to surround Yang at all times, even on a chilly night, and she felt her head clear with the rush of cool air. The job was first, it had to be. This was too important, with too much riding on it, for her to blow it out of fear of hurting or getting hurt. She couldn’t stop now, but there was also no reason to make things worse by letting them get out of hand. Seeing that the moment was stretching out too long she stepped in for a quick embrace, close but not too close. She needed Yang, but she couldn’t let this already speeding train go off the tracks so soon.

“Any time partner.” She said, hoping the message was received as intended.

Yang’s sad smile when they parted showed she had, “Yeah, partner. I, uh, I need to get some sleep. I’ll text you tomorrow and we’ll start figuring out how this operation is going down.” She managed to build up enough bravado to show Blake that no harm had been done and things were indeed firmly back on the rails.

“Roger that,” Blake said with a mock salute, turning to saunter down the dark driveway. It wasn’t until she heard the door open and shut a moment later that she risked a glance back, but the porch was empty, of course. She finished the walk to the curb and unlocked her car, throwing her purse in the back.

As she reached for her seatbelt she caught sight of herself in the rearview mirror. She was not pleased with what she saw.

“Hold it together Belladonna,” she said sternly, willing her reflection to show a stoicism she in no way felt. She had to stay focused; do the job, worry about the rest later. Looking away from her own damning stare she started the car and drove toward her empty apartment; away from the closest thing to home she had known in years.


	6. Making Plans

Monday came and went, and despite opening her scroll hundreds of times Blake managed to resist the urge to text Yang. She knew the strength of this desire was not a great sign for her resolution to stay professional, but she buried that thought along with the desire itself. She was just anxious to do something, to prepare for the coming fight, nothing more. If she found herself zoning out in work meetings while staring dreamily into space it was probably just because she was tired, no reason to overanalyze the object of her musings. Besides, she made it through the day and managed to play it cool, helped in no small part by how dumb all of her attempts at reaching out seemed.

**Yang**

> _Hey, partner! It’s me, your partner_

(Nope, definitely not. Deleted.)

> _Hey, just wanted to check in about stuff. And things._

(Why is this so awkward? Why am I so awkward? Just put the scroll down. Well, delete the message first, then maybe try again… No! Put. It. Down.)

Tuesday was a constant flurry of work after her boss asked her to cover a tech conference downtown at the last minute. With that and her existing assignments, she was mercifully occupied until well past dinner time, which was an abstract concept given that being busy often caused her to forget to eat. It was late that evening when she finally caved, hours deep into her hunt through more sketchy message boards when she stopped to rub her bleary eyes. She reached for her tea (cold again, dammit) and after taking a dissatisfied drink finally decided to get it over with. Awkwardness aside they had shit to do and plans needed to be made.

> _Hey, we should probably meet up soon and do some planning. What’s your schedule like this week?_

Blake set her scroll down, proud of how totally professional she had managed to be. Before she could pat herself on the back too many times she caught sight of the time in the upper corner of the display: 3:24 AM.

“Fuck! She’s going to think I’m a total lunatic texting her in the middle of the night. And given that I am currently shouting at an empty goddam apartment she will be correct!”

She was interrupted from berating herself by a small buzz and snapped her gaze back to her scroll and saw that Yang had replied.

> _Hey yourself! I was thinking of doing my usual preparations on Saturday night, maybe we could go together and scope things out? We can meet up for coffee (or tea in your case) any time this week to discuss details in person. Midday or after 6 both work for me, your pick! :)_

Blake reread the message a few times, making sure it wasn’t a hallucination, and also happy that Yang hadn’t included too many details in her message. That was the upside of working with someone else who had secrets she supposed, no need to emphasize the importance of discretion. Still, it was odd that she had replied so quickly given the hour.

> _Great! I have a piece due tomorrow so how about we meet up Thursday at noon?_
> 
> _I’ll send you the address of a cafe._
> 
> _Sorry if I woke you!_

The reply came as fast as the last one, which was fortunate as Blake forgot to breathe while she waited.

> _No worries, I was having trouble sleeping and just happened to check my scroll when you messaged me. I’ll see you Thursday. Try to get some sleep between now and then, goodnight!_

Blake really meant to stay aloof, and no response was technically necessary, but sleep deprivation was not aiding her self-control. The best she could manage was limiting herself to a short response.

> _No promises. Goodnight!_

Knowing that she would need to be physically restrained to stop texting Yang at that point she closed her scroll and threw it on her bed. Back to work, she thought, really intending to be productive, but the stupid forums she was searching were as dull as they were cryptic, and she just didn’t care enough to figure out if the commentary on the latest action movie and its heroine’s cleavage was an encoded message or just prepubescent boys being themselves. She also knew better than to try to write anything for the paper as it would likely be so scattered she would spend more time revising it than she would writing it fresh tomorrow. Unfortunately, it was still a little early for the habitual night owl to sleep, and she had promised to do some research for her role in Yang’s corner, so she started hunting down videos.

Two hours later Blake slumped into bed. That she was too tired for vivid dreams had been her intent, as those were rarely of a pleasant variety in her troubled life. Tired as she was she couldn’t stop her sleeping mind from conjuring soft golden light shot through with orange and purple, all of it emanating a soothing warmth that would linger on her skin for a moment beyond the sounding of her dreaded alarm.

\--

“Shit shit shit! Weiss, are you still here?!” Yang called as she frantically dug through her drawers. “Wei-!”

“Yes, I am! Gods, what is your problem?” Came the reply from the doorway. Yang was thrilled to see that Weiss was still home despite the relatively late hour, though she was clearly getting ready to walk out the door. As always her look was an ideal blend of professional and chic with her perfectly tailored blazer, pencil skirt, and pumps that were definitely on the high side of sensible. She looked at her distressed roommate in confusion as she was offered two tops to pick from.

“Which one should I wear?”

“For what, work? You wear the same thing every day. Just put on a t-shirt and...wait.”

Yang did not like the knowing smile growing on her friend’s lips.

“You’re seeing Blake today.”

“No! Gah, fine, yes! Will you just help me?” Yang was not enjoying this nearly as much as her friend clearly was. Her two forms of apparel were work mode (t-shirt, jeans) and party mode (tight dress/skirt and revealing top) and she was currently attempting to mix work jeans with a party top, to no avail.

“Neither, hold on,” Weiss replied in exasperation. With three resounding clicks, she crossed the hardwood floor decisively and opened a couple of Yang’s drawers, looking for something. “Here, just wear this. It looks great on you but not like you’re trying too hard. And if you must wear jeans to ride that machine of yours at least wear dark ones that fit properly.” Weiss said as she handed Yang a burnt orange sweater. “Now if you’re done having a fashion emergency I really ought to be going.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou! You’re a lifesaver!” Yang exclaimed, hurriedly pulling off the shirt she was wearing in favor of the proffered garment.

Weiss smiled and rolled her eyes as she turned to leave, stopping at the door to examine her handiwork. “The hair could use some work, but you look great. Have a nice time on your date!” she called with a laugh as she strode down the stairs and out the front door, ignoring the indignant shouts of protest from her very flustered roommate.

Yang went to the mirror and tried to ignore the crimson flush on her cheeks while she focused on her hair. It looked fine and Yang let out a few more curses for the long-gone Weiss who had said that just get a rise out of her. Just to be sure she grabbed a wide-toothed comb and ran it through a few times abandoning the effort when she saw it was making no difference. Besides, she needed to leave if she was going to make it to the lab in time for the weekly meeting.

She took one more look in the mirror, grudgingly gave the ice queen credit for nailing it with the sweater, and hastened to leave. Taking the stairs two at a time, pausing only to grab her leather jacket, she burst out the door into a beautiful fall day.

Yang was relatively sure that she rode to the lab and went to a meeting, but her mind seemed to either be lagging behind or jumping ahead of her body. Dr. Polendina usually went around the table, and she likely gave her usual noncommittal response and received his usual encouragement to stick with it, that “discoveries happen when they’re good and ready, and not before” or something to that effect. She had a brief moment of clarity when her labmates complimented her on her coverage in the paper, and had the same mix of pride and shame as she had in front of her friends but vastly diminished. She even managed to nod and thank everyone for their praises, which she took for a win. But then it was over and she was giving a vague excuse to Pyrrha about why she couldn’t join her and Jaune for lunch and asking for a rain check before practically sprinting back outside and down to her bike.

As Yang turned over Bumblebee’s engine everything suddenly became clear and immediate, almost as much as when she entered the ring. A savage grin lit her face and she took the winding road back down to Vale at a pace that she was sure would get a look of disapproval from Weiss if not literally everyone else she knew. The wind felt so good that she couldn’t bring herself to care and she really wanted to be where she was headed; a little cafe she had only been to once but remembered liking well enough. Truth be told, she couldn’t care less where she was going exactly just that it was another chance to be around Blake. Not texting her every day of the week had been agony, but she was glad she managed to play it at least a little cool, it added to the anticipation. Besides, they were supposed to be partners, Yang reminded herself, and scaring her off by coming on too strong was probably not the best way to accomplish their goals. That reminder did little to wipe the stupid grin off her face, but she hoped it would keep her somewhere approaching her best behavior. Decent behavior? Acceptable, surely. Maybe just ok.

\--

Blake had just taken a seat at one of the tables in front of the cafe when she heard the thunderous roar that she knew signaled her co-conspirator’s arrival. She couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy as she watched Yang park and confidently dismount, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she did. She managed to regain her composure just in time for her to walk across the sidewalk and sit down across from her, only to completely lose it again when she unzipped her jacket to reveal a sweater the color of fall that was slightly looser than a second skin. Blake had hastily looked away and taken a long sip of tea to hide the fact that she was quite possibly having a heart attack. Her attempt to cover for her reaction obviously went poorly as it drew a cocky smile and a long luxurious overhead stretch in response.

“Whatcha drinking?” Yang asked, way too proud of herself.

“Black tea with cream,” Blake replied, suddenly very interested in the exact shade of her beverage.

“Can I try some?”

Blake shrugged and handed the mug over, expecting the usual comments she got about the superiority of coffee.

“You know that’s actually pretty good, I’m going to go grab one for myself.” Yang gave a saucy wink as she got back up and sidled into the cafe, drawing more eyes than just Blake’s as she went. To be fair, that girl is hard to miss, Blake thought before attempting to wrangle her mind back to business. This was supposed to be a planning meeting, not a date.

Despite all appearances to the contrary.

Yang returned shortly with her matching beverage, still clearly very pleased with herself, and sat down, leaning her chair back on two legs. Doing her best to focus on the matter at hand, Blake got straight to the point. “So, should we talk business?”

Yang was mildly disappointed to be bypassing pleasantries but let the feeling pass and hoped it didn’t show. She had offered to help and she would. She settled her chair back squarely on the ground and tried to stay focused. “Right. Given that I haven’t told people where I actually go on ‘event’ night I can’t exactly bring everything I need with me on the day of. To get around that I’ve taken to renting a locker for two weeks, a week before and a week after, at a storage facility within walking distance of the venue. There are really only so many places that can be used to host so it’s usually not hard to stick to one of the four or five places I know and trust. I then pack a prep bag with everything I need and stash it there. Given how busy my roommates are these days I don’t usually have to make an excuse, but I just say I’m running errands or something if they are around. After the fight, I drop my stuff, and sometimes my winnings, back off in the locker where I can retrieve them before my rental is up.”

“Wait, why don’t you just make up that excuse on fight night, save the hassle?” Blake asked, not trying to be rude but not understanding all the extra work.

“Tried that once, but I was gone long enough that it brought up a lot of difficult questions about where I had been. So I started saying I was partying, but my friends didn’t exactly approve of me going out drinking and dancing all night and then riding home. Turns out they were onto something too. Shortly after I switched to public transit I took a nasty shot to the head. I won the fight but my equilibrium was so messed up for the rest of the night that I definitely was not safe to operate a vehicle. So yeah, it’s a little convoluted, but it’s been a reliable system.”

Blake nodded, she could see the beautiful simplicity in it all. “Does that mean we’ll have to be careful about how long we’re out this weekend?”

“Not necessarily. We could just say you’re taking me on a date,” Yang said, not even attempting to cover her grin as she took a generous swallow of her drink.

“That’s your plan?” Blake asked, cocking a disbelieving eyebrow.

“You got a better one?”

“I do not,” Blake confessed, feeling beaten but not quite sad about it.

“Well?” Yang asked, expectantly.

“Well what?”

“Where are you taking me?” Yang asked, her smile widening.

Blake thought Yang was enjoying herself a bit too much but played along regardless. “Well aside from dark alleyways and abandoned warehouses, what sort of places do you like to visit in your downtime?” she asked.

“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy. I expect you to put in a little legwork here, rather than asking me to do everything for you,” Yang said, adding a wink that was both flirtatious and conspiratorial, making Blake laugh despite herself.

“I’m sure I’ll come up with something. Anything for you, sweetheart.” Blake said, folding her hands under her chin and batting her eyes as ridiculously as possible.

Yang smirked as she finished her tea and got up. After she had deposited it in the dish tub by the door she came back and said, somewhat more seriously, “I have to head back to the lab and try to get some work done. Dinner and a movie works fine; maybe we’ll even finish early enough to do one of those things for real.” With that she put her aviators on and zipped her jacket up, allowing the chins of several nearby patrons to return from the floor back to their appropriate positions, and turned to leave. She stopped and dipped her sunglasses, giving Blake one more wink. “I’ll pick you up at 7.”

Yang was halfway to her bike before the meaning of what she had said hit Blake. “Wait, why don’t I pick you up?” she sputtered, having never been on a motorcycle before and finding herself unsure if she was ready to break her streak.

Yang laughed as she straddled her bike. “Trust me, you don’t want to bring your car to that neighborhood. It’ll be fine!”

The engine started, thereby ending the debate, and Yang gave another jaunty smile as she backed off the curb and then accelerated away. Blake sat, shaking her head and staring at her mostly empty mug. She had hoped to keep things professional, to maintain distance, but that arrogant, swaggering woman was breaking down her defenses faster than she could build them up. Gods she was infuriating.

But oh-so fascinating.


	7. Breaking and Entering, and Ramen

Somehow, Blake managed to function throughout the remainder of the week, even getting a compliment from her boss on the final draft of her piece covering the tech conference. It was always nice to hear praise for her work, even if she honestly didn’t care that much about the tech field and had only taken that beat in hopes of working her way up. With any luck, she would be given more interesting opportunities if she kept impressing the editors, hopefully even something on the crime beat. She could really use some contacts in the VPD.

She spent much of her Saturday trying and failing to read, pacing around the apartment, trying and failing to write, pacing around the block, and trying and failing to figure out what in the hell she could do to help Yang from ringside. To mix things up she tried pacing around her apartment once more and found it every bit as stimulating as she had previously. Soon she realized it was time to try (and hopefully not fail) to find an outfit that both looked believable for date night and still be functional while she performed some light breaking and entering. Hunting around her apartment she settled on black stretch jeans, a matching turtleneck, and the one leather jacket she had forgotten she owned but was happy to find seemed reasonably sturdy. After taking a bit longer than usual to do her makeup she tied one of her signature bows firmly in place and examined the results. She wished she could dress up a bit more for a date (ostensibly a date, she reminded herself) but she couldn’t sacrifice the functionality and hoped it would do. A glance at her scroll showed her it was just about 7 so she stepped into her favorite high heeled boots and made her way down the stairs. Exactly as she opened the door to the street she heard and then saw Yang pull up. Right on time.

To Blake’s surprise, she didn’t simply wait for her to come join, but rather turned off the engine and propped the bike on its kickstand as she dismounted. After fussing around in one of the saddlebags she pulled out a helmet and offered it to her soon-to-be passenger.

“Oh, I. Thanks, but...” Blake gestured vaguely towards her bow, hoping Yang wouldn’t press. Much to her relief she didn’t, simply shrugging and returning it to its compartment.

“No worries, you technically don’t need it but you just seemed nervous at the cafe, so I thought I would bring it just in case.”

“No, it’s fine. I really appreciate it,” Blake said quickly, glad the moment had passed. “What do you mean I don't need it?” she asked, only just processing that detail.

Yang beamed proudly and explained, “You really think my friends would let me ride with no safety gear? My bike has a state of the art collision system; in the event of a crash, it deploys a hard light bubble and then turns on an inertial dampener that will bring it to a safe stop. Weiss hooked me up, she still has a few contacts at SDC that come in handy from time to time.”

“Fancy. Have you tested it?” Blake asked, not seeing any device that obviously could pull off such miracles and unsure if she trusted it.

Yang laughed, “No, I haven’t. I’ve seen test footage though and it’s pretty awesome.” Seeing Blake’s doubt she added, “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Yang said confidently. “You uh, you look great by the way,” she added, suddenly shy.

“You think so?” Blake asked, adjusting her jacket self-consciously.

“Yeah, totally badass. The biker chick look works for you,” Yang said, trailing off as her cheeks went red. After a moment she remembered why she was there and led Blake over to the waiting motorcycle. “Come on, I’ll show you how to get on." She proceeded to do just that, flipping down the footpegs meant for the passenger and showing Blake how to mount them, holding the bike steady as she did. “All you have to do is relax and lean with me. I’ve been doing this a long time, I’ll take good care of you. I promise,” Yang said, her smile reassuring.

“Ok.” Blake inhaled, trying to calm herself. “Ok, yeah I’m ready. Wait!” she cried as Yang swung her own leg over the seat and turned in alarm at the outburst. “How do I hold on?”

Yang grinned. “Your choice, there’s a strap there,” she said as she pointed to the narrow gap between them in the seat. “or you can just hold on around my waist. Either one is fine with me, as long as you’re comfortable.”

With that Yang turned and started the engine, pausing for a moment as she felt Blake tense and then reach for the strap. After a moment of fumbling, she accepted that it wouldn’t feel stable enough and she leaned forward cautiously, slowly placing her noticeably trembling hands around a trim and solid waist.

Yang turned her head, speaking just loudly enough to be heard over the motor, “See? Not so bad. Just don’t squeeze so tight I can’t breathe.” With that she torqued the throttle, causing her passenger to close her eyes and bury her face in the mane of hair in front of her as they sped off into the night.

Slowly, Blake started to relax, helped along by the calm breathing and warmth of the woman in front of her. Right as she was about to comment on how it really wasn’t so bad the bike dipped into a turn and she had to fight every instinct to follow her one instruction and just go with it, holding her breath until the bike, as if by magic, pulled itself back upright.

“Hnng, too tight!” Came a strangled shout over the roar of the accelerating engine. Realizing she did indeed have a death grip on Yang’s midriff, Blake forced herself to go back to a more relaxed, if still snug, hold. Her thanks was a cough that turned into bubbling laughter. “You know, I don’t exactly mind you nuzzling my neck like that, but it might actually be less scary if you watched the road.”

“I am not nuzzling your neck, I was just getting my balance,” Blake huffed, but she did as she was told and sat up a bit and opened her eyes. At some point they had made their way onto the large elevated highway that ran along the perimeter of Vale and were blasting down the moderately trafficked road, deftly moving through the slower cars. It was far easier to let herself move with the bobs and weaves of the bike when she could see what was happening, which made the ride exhilarating if still terrifying. That combination was all the explanation she needed as to why this was the vehicle of choice for the wild woman in front of her; it was a perfect fit.

They reached their exit and Yang took the off-ramp leading back down to street level. As they left the highway behind they found themselves cruising down nearly empty streets that were lined with increasingly infrequent lamp posts. After a little less than a mile, Yang pulled into one of the few well-lit areas along their path, a parking lot in front of a building that took up an entire block and had big letters painted on the side reading, “The Vault”.

Yang parked and looked back at Blake, who realized belatedly that she was still holding on rather snugly to her waist. Embarrassed, she sat back quickly, so quickly in fact that she almost fell off the back of the bike. To stop her fall she was forced to windmill her arms wildly and ended up lurching back onto Yang, who fortunately had anticipated her struggle and managed to keep them both upright while also hiding most of her amusement.

Sheepishly Blake found her equilibrium and swung herself off the bike, glad to have her feet firmly on the ground again. She busily set about dusting off her completely clean pants to give her face a chance to return to a more normal shade while Yang lowered the kickstand and swung her leg over the seat in a practiced dismount. Seeing that Blake needed a brief respite to regroup she took her time looking through her saddlebags even though her gear was readily available and the bags weren’t exactly cavernous.

When she felt enough time had passed, Yang turned towards the building, looking sidelong at her flustered companion. “You ready?” she asked, hoping she withheld most, but not quite all, of her amusement.

“Yup, totally, I’m great. Let’s go.”

Yang smiled and shook her head, leading the way across the empty lot to the building. “This is part of a chain,” she explained, “and they have a lot of useful locations, so I keep a standing membership with them. Clean, brightly lit, solid locks. And they offer onsite, automated rentals.” After swiping a card to unlock the outer door (“Members only after 6,” Yang explained) they reached a console where Yang started paging through screens with obvious familiarity, selecting the smallest locker size and requesting two weeks. The screen displayed a locker number and a small jangling sound indicated a key had been dispensed into the tray below. Yang reached down for it and they were off, weaving down through hallways with locker ranges painted in big block letters along the ceiling at intersections, making the otherwise identical passageways easy to navigate.

When they reached the desired section they scanned the lockers themselves for the appropriate letters and numbers, finding it midway down the hall. Yang inserted her key into the heavy-duty padlock looped through the handle and unlocked it with a solid thunk. “See? Easy,” she said. With that she set about looking through her bag, checking one more time to ensure everything was there.

“Wait, should I bring anything with me next week to do...corner stuff?” Blake asked, worried that she wasn’t holding up her end of the bargain. The only answer she received was a confused look from Yang so she went on, “I mean, like medical supplies or...water? Look I don’t know, there aren’t exactly tutorials on how to support someone during an illegal cage match online.”

The seriousness with which she had apparently taken her assignment drew a laugh from Yang, but she motioned for her to come look as she rummaged through her bag.

“I appreciate you wanting to do a good job. I do, really, but I’ve also been doing this for a while. Here, this is the kit I bring with me, take a look,” she said.

Blake took the proffered bag, the size of a large purse, and opened it. Lots of tape, medical scissors, gauze, some band-aids, and multiple small containers. “What’s with all the vaseline?” Blake asked, holding one of them up, mystified.

“That, my dear, is the most important substance a fighter can own. Bar none. I promise you,” Yang said, speaking in hushed tones as though referring to the nectar of the gods.

“Ok...I guess I’ll take your word for it. But Yang, there’s basically nothing in here that I can use to help you if you get seriously hurt,” Blake said as she went back through the meager supplies.

“Oh come on, there’s an ice pack and some ibuprofen in there, that’s always been enough before!” Yang quipped sheepishly, taking the kit back and replacing it in her duffle, avoiding the look of exasperation aimed her way as she loaded the whole thing in the storage locker. More quietly she went on, “Look, I’ve always done this alone, and it turns out that stitching up a cut on your own face with no mirror is kind of tough. So instead I just do my best not to need anything more.”

“But you aren’t invincible,” Blake said as gently as she could.

“I know. Look, you’re right, I’ve been caught a few times, bad, but never bad enough to put me out. Guess I have a hard head. Anyway, when I do get cut or get my bell rung, it usually pushes me into some sort of, I don’t know, overdrive I guess? Whatever it is when it happens the fight usually ends before I have to deal with any injuries. Then I just get to a hospital and hope I can cover it when I get home. It’s worked so far,” Yang said, tacitly admitting that she knew how lucky she had been in the past.

“Well you’re not alone anymore, so we should consider getting you some proper medical supplies. Just in case.” Blake said, hoping she wasn’t overstepping but unable to completely tamp down her concern.

Yang looked up and nodded, conceding the point. “Shall we?” She asked, gesturing toward the exit but really asking to move on from the present conversation.

Blake nodded to both, and they walked back out into the night.

Mercifully, there were no embarrassing incidents remounting the bike and they set off without incident. Having learned her lesson Blake kept her head up the whole time, though she still maintained her grip around Yang’s waist (for safety, naturally) as they zigzagged through dark streets surrounding darker warehouses.

When they were a few blocks from the address that Yang had been given they pulled off into a narrow alley, Yang killing the engine and walking them deep enough in to be invisible from the street. Not that there was anyone to watch, but this was not the time to get careless. Once off the bike, they conferred in hushed tones.

“Ok, I’m pretty sure they should be mostly set up by now, there’s enough shit to bring in that doing it all during the week leading up seems crazy.” Yang began, Blake nodding along. “But I have no idea if there are guards posted or not. Even though there’s probably a fight going on somewhere there shouldn’t be a one at this location tonight since they don’t tend to reuse places within a month or two of each other. I’m relatively confident of that.” Yang winced at the look she received at ‘relatively’ but continued, “Which is why we’re here kind of early. The crowds don’t tend to start trickling in until 9. So we go in, look around, get out. Easy. If we need to make a quick getaway we make a break for the bike, but if we can’t reach it for some reason we’ll split up and meet back at the storage building as soon as possible. Sound good?”

But Blake wasn’t really listening. Instead, she was shaking her head as she placed her wireless headphones carefully in her ears, “Sorry cowboy, that’s not exactly how this is going down. I’m going in, alone, while you stay here with my getaway...well I was going to say car but you get the point.” Before Yang could argue she started ticking off reasons why her plan was better, “One, this is my shit and I’m not dragging you further into than necessary. Two, more people means more chances of getting caught. Three, stealth isn’t exactly your _modus operandi_.” At this Yang tried to protest, but Blake wasn’t done, “and four, you’re the fucking Dragon. Everyone there knows you and if you get caught we’re both screwed. So please, stay here. Did you bring your headphones like I asked you to?” Yang nodded sullenly. “Good. Put them in, I’ll call you so we can stay in constant contact. If I need backup you’ll be the first to know.”

Yang crossed her arms and stared angrily at the unexpected mutiny. Realizing she had no valid argument she clenched her jaw and nodded curtly.

Blake smiled at the small victory. She felt guilty enough at the risks she was asking Yang to take as it was, no need to make her take any more than necessary. Hopefully, she would forgive her for bulldozing her like she had. “Give me a boost?” Blake asked, indicating the nearby fire escape.

Yang shrugged, maintaining her stony silence, and walked over to stand under the ladder. Placing her back against the wall and interlacing her fingers, she indicated she was ready. Blake walked over and placed both hands on the woman’s shoulders, smiling shyly at being so close for a moment. Remembering what she was supposed to be doing she placed the ball of her foot in the offered cradle.

“Ready?” Yang asked.

Blake nodded, and with that the blond straightened her legs and hoisted her up with apparent ease, lifting her high enough that she was able to get not only both hands but also a foot onto the ladder before stepping out of those strong hands. She quickly made her way up the rungs and over the railing before walking silently up the stairs to the roof, pausing to open her scroll and call Yang. A moment later she heard her voice in her ear.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. You’ll forgive me.”

After an indistinct grumble that didn’t sound like an agreement but wasn’t quite an argument, Yang changed the subject, “This is some straight-up spy shit.”

Blake smiled to herself as she raced across the roof and hurdled the small gap to the next. “This isn’t my first time doing some light breaking and entering.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. You’ll have to tell me about it someday.”

Her smile fading, Blake tried to stay focused on what was in front of her so as not to be distracted by the terrible things behind. “Yeah, someday,” she said quietly.

Back on the ground, Yang paced incessantly, feeling useless. Several minutes passed in relative silence before her patience ran out. “How’s it going?” she asked, hoping she had hidden some of her tension.

“Just reached the building next door, scoping things out before I get closer,” came the cool reply.

The calm sound of Blake’s voice helped a little, but Yang still hated not being there in case things went south. She continued her pacing and hoped there would be no surprises.

After a few seconds Blake spoke again, “Looks deserted, I’m going to get closer. Don’t panic if I don’t respond immediately, it just means I need to be quiet.”

Yang frowned. “When, exactly, should I panic?” she asked.

“Hopefully never, but I would say you can go ahead and worry if the line goes dead or you hear a commotion.” There was a brief pause and what sounded like Blake moving. “You know, or if I scream bloody murder. Then panic.”

“Not funny.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be. Anyway, hang on the line, I’ll check in as I’m able”

Then Yang was left with silence and her worries. Her only clues as to what was happening on the other end of the call were the occasional sound of breathing and various ambient noises, all of which sounded vaguely threatening filtered through her fear.

\--

“Are you laughing right now? While I risk my neck?”

The sudden hiss of words in her ear made Yang jump, and it took all of her self-control to stay quiet as she did. It had been nearly 20 minutes since she’d heard from Blake, and she had been lulled by the even sound of breathing during that time.

“Sorry, no. I mean, yes, but not about you. I was texting Ruby. Gods you scared the shit out of me. Find anything?” Yang asked.

“Scoped the place out. Most of the ring and stands are in place, though not totally assembled yet, and I got a feel for the overall layout, including a few convenient ways to get around relatively unnoticed. I’m heading back now,”

“That was fast. This really wasn’t your first time casing a joint, was it?”

“No.” Blake responded hesitantly, as though waiting for judgment or accusations of her past sins. Instead, she was greeted with another snicker.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m really not laughing at you,” Yang said, sounding only vaguely guilty.

“Sure. Well, I’m glad one of us was having a good time tonight,” Blake said, instantly regretting the edge in her voice. Covering for herself she added, “So, what was she texting you about?”

“Oh, uh, she was asking how our night was going.”

“You mean our date?”

This time Yang was definitely laughing at Blake, or perhaps with her, though ruefully. “No, our night. I was just teasing at the coffee shop. I told them we were hanging out because your other plans fell through.”

“You know me and my busy social calendar,” Blake deadpanned. 

“Actually...I kind of don’t. For all I know you could have had big plans for the evening,” Yang said, uncertain.

“You’re right, I totally could have.”

“... did you?”

“No,” Blake admitted.

Yang was silent for a moment, considering her next words. “Blake, are you ever not working?”

“I hardly consider this part of my job.”

“You know what I mean.”

The line went silent again, potentially because Blake was saving her breath to leap between buildings, but Yang suspected she was thinking. “This is really important to me Yang, and it could mean the difference between life and death for a lot of people. It just feels...selfish not to pursue it as hard as I can. Heads up.”

In the next heartbeat, a dark form dropped silently into the alley, emerging from the shadows the same way she had another night, in another alley. Yang was happy to get to see the act repeated without goons trying to kill her, and whistled her appreciation for the performance. “I can’t wait to hear all about how you were raised in a monastery on a mountaintop by monks who train ninja assassins.”

“There is so much wrong with what you said I don’t know where to start. I’ll settle for the obvious: I definitely was not raised by monks,” Blake said sardonically.

“One mystery down, only a few thousand to go.” Yang joked brightly as she climbed back on her bike and waited for Blake to join her, which she did, with far more enthusiasm than the last two times. “You want to get some food? I’m kind of hungry.” she asked, but seeing Blake hesitate she hastily went on, “We don’t have to go to a sit-down place for a big meal or anything, we can grab some takeout and go back to your place. You can do some work and I’ll get out of your hair whenever I start bugging you.”

Blake knew full well she wouldn’t be able to get anything done with the beguiling blonde around and also worried that she might never get sick enough of her to kick her out, but she found herself caving and nodding in agreement anyway. If nothing else it would solidify their cover story. That counted as work.

Right?

\---

As they got close to her apartment Blake pointed out some of her favorite spots and Yang pulled over near a ramen place she also happened to know. Ordering went smoothly enough until the cashier asked for payment. Both women started fumbling to grab cards first, both making excuses why they should pay (“I invited you out,” “Yeah but you drove” “I picked the place”) until they realized they both had enough cash on them to split it and sheepishly handed their Lien over.

Being just down the block they decided to walk the rest of the way, chatting amicably about nothing in-particular all the while. As they mounted the stairs Blake realized with a panic that her place was probably a wreck, and asked Yang to wait in the hall outside her door for just a second, and after promising to be quick and closing the door gently behind her she turned to take stock.

Fortunately, she owned so little that a true mess was almost impossible, but there were dirty clothes everywhere and more than one old takeout container lying around from Brothers knew when. Blake quickly threw all of her clothes in the closet of her small studio, vaguely made the bed, and trashed a few containers from her table that looked like they were developing new and as of yet undiscovered forms of life. When she decided that her place looked just clean enough to not be described as a pig-sty she opened the door to find Yang leaning jauntily against the frame.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Blake intoned melodramatically, making an overly exaggerated gesture of welcome, complete with a slight curtsy. Suddenly feeling self-conscious she let her ridiculous act fall. “It’s not much, I know.”

“Blake, it’s great. Thank you for inviting me into your home,” Yang said graciously, despite noting the lack of, well, anything in the apartment that would mark it as such. It was incredibly spartan, but that was easily chalked up to a busy schedule and still being relatively new in town. “You hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Me too, let’s crush some ramen.”

Blake was grateful for the change of subject and happily went with it. The fact that she never felt at home anywhere hadn’t ever bothered her until a few days ago. Apartments were where you kept your stuff and slept behind the safety of a locked door, and that had been enough, before. Spending time in a space that was as fully inhabited as Pyrrha and Jaune’s had opened her eyes to the emptiness of her own space, and that emptiness felt like it was echoing deafeningly with the sound of her own inadequacy now that someone was there to listen. For her part Yang seemed completely at ease, dropping comfortably into one of the only two chairs in the entire apartment and pulling various plastic containers out of the big brown paper bag that held their dinner. It was clear she was either blissfully unaware of her surroundings or completely unperturbed, but either way, Blake counted it as a blessing and joined her friend at the table.

Despite earlier talk of doing work, she made no move for her computer, and instead just sat and enjoyed eating with someone else for a change. For the most part, they talked about small and trivial things or sat in companionable silence, each content to simply enjoy the other’s company.

In time, talk of the following week’s fight came up, and how unprepared Blake felt. Despite numerous assurances that moral support was more than enough she persisted and eventually Yang told her to grab her computer. “You need to understand the power of vaseline,” Yang said assuredly, typing something briefly and scrolling through results.

Several clips later, during which Blake saw various professional fighters fix everything from bloody noses to cut eyebrows with the miraculous substance, she had to admit she was seeing why it was spoken about in nearly reverent tones by the fighter. A niggling thought was bothering her though, and she couldn’t help but pry a little.

“Yang, you showed me all of these clips of professionals, and you’re obviously a great fighter, so why all this? Why not fight in, I don’t know, legal matches?”

Yang looked away, some of the shame from the other night creeping into her face. “I. Look I don’t know, it just happened. I did a few amateur kickboxing fights in college, but my dad and sister flipped when they found out. They kept saying I was going to get hurt, that it could ruin my chances to graduate and get a good job. Ruby especially, she was deep into her pre-med studies and got really freaked out about concussions. She went to my other friends and all of them, even Pyrrha who used to do martial arts at the highest level, took her side. And they were right, I’m one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to fight for survival, so I dropped it, stuck to local sparring.”

“But it wasn’t enough, was it?” Blake asked when she didn’t continue.

“No. It wasn’t. One day I was sparring someone at some class or another, maybe it was boxing or maybe it was Muay Thai, whichever it was I just lost it. I kicked the shit out of this dude who was twice my size and only just managed to pull back in time to not hurt him. After that the manager of the gym came over, I figured to ask me to leave. Instead, he pulls out this card, says if I ever feel like I need to blow off steam on some people who can take it I should give the number a call. Said there was good money in it.

“I didn’t call it, not at first. It was shady as fuck and I was trying to focus on my real life. I had just been accepted into Dr. Polendina’s lab and I met this girl, things were good. Or they should have been. I felt like I had this animal inside me that I had caged, and it was fighting to get free. It freaked me out, Blake. Badly. My girlfriend dumped me after seeing me punch a heavy bag so hard at the school gym that it literally exploded. Said I scared her, that I needed help. Maybe she was right, but regardless of what I needed, I knew what I wanted. So I called the number. Got a time, date, and address in response, showed up, and the rest is history.”

“That girl was an idiot,” Blake said, shaking her head.

Yang burst out laughing. “That was your takeaway? Not that I’m a psychopath with rage issues?”

“You definitely have a temper, but I don’t think you’re a psycho, and it doesn’t sound like the real issue, then or now, was actually with anger. The heavy bag thing was just your strength and aggression, which, frankly, are kind of hot.” Realizing what she had just said Blake hurried to make her point, “But that feeling? Being in a cage? That’s just about not being wholly yourself, and anyone would feel the way you did if they were suppressing such vital parts of their personality.”

“Huh, I guess I never thought of it like that,” Yang said slowly, considering the idea. “Are you speaking from experience with that insight?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” Blake played with the hem of her shirt, suddenly very interested in the stitching there.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to pry.”

Blake sighed and looked back up, “No. It’s fine, I know. I’m just, not, great, at sharing. I feel like I’ve done nothing but ask you to divulge all of your secrets to me and given you nothing in return.”

“You don’t need to give me anything,” Yang said, her tone gentle but firm.

Blake was bowled over by the sheer simplicity and earnestness of the sentiment, by this amazing person who sat across from her, offering everything and asking nothing. She wanted so badly to reciprocate, but couldn’t find the words.

“You can ask me things, you know,” Blake said slowly. Making such an offer terrified her, but she knew if she wasn’t asked she could never bring herself to reveal anything.

“What should I ask you?” came the cautious reply.

“Anything you want,” Blake said as she braced herself, waiting for the questions to come. Equal parts hoping and dreading them.

After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Yang seemed to have decided. “Ok. Tell me what makes you happy.”

Blake started, caught completely off guard after mentally preparing for many more painful and pointed questions. “I, well, I really do love tea.”

Yang rolled her eyes, "I meant something a little more substantive than that. Let’s say you’ve had a really shitty day and you just want to feel good. What do you do?”

Blake thought about it for a moment, realizing that this line of inquiry was both far safer yet far more intimate than she had first realized. In response she stood and silently and took Yang’s hand, leading her over to the bed.

“Whoa whoa whoa! I, this is not what I meant. I just was wondering, what, uh.” she sputtered, completely misunderstanding.

“Gods! Shut up, and lay down, I’m not trying to get in your pants.” Blake chuckled as Yang, looking mystified and somewhat dumbstruck, did as she was told.

A few minutes of digging through boxes later Blake was back, still laughing softly to see those lilac eyes gone wide.

“Put these on,” she said, handing her a set of big wireless headphones.

Yang did as she was told, noticing that what little sound there had been in the room was completely blocked out. She looked up and watched as Blake flipped through her scroll until she found what she was looking for. Soon the sounds of waves and birds filled her ears, so lifelike she almost looked around to see if they were in the apartment somehow.

“It’s the ocean!” she said, drawing another laugh from Blake, who reached out and pulled one of the earpieces away from her head.

“You don’t need to yell, but yes, it is the ocean. Here, take this.” With that, she handed her a book and resettled the headphones, surrounding Yang in the sonic landscape again.

As she opened the book she felt a wave of heat and noticed that Blake had turned on a bright light that hung over the bed and that she suspected had a full spectrum bulb. Combined, the various elements created a wonderful simulacrum of being at the beach. Getting into the spirit Yang relaxed and opened the book she had been given and saw that it was a collection of poems. After reading a few she felt a slight shift in the springs of the bed and looked over at the woman whose secret world she was currently inhabiting. Feeling almost guilty for the invasion she took the headphones off.

“This is amazing,” she said softly, the feeling of the peaceful beach lingering in her mind.

“Yeah, well, you asked what makes me happy,” Blake said, reaching out for the well-thumbed book, paging through it, and smiling absentmindedly. “I grew up near the ocean, and my parents used to take me to the beach all the time. At first, they thought I didn’t like it, because I didn’t want to go play in the sand with the other kids. Instead, I would run back to them and beg them to read me a story. But one day they suggested we stay home on a bright sunny day and I threw a tantrum, demanding that we go to the beach. I’ve always loved it, just in my own way," she said with a self-conscious laugh, closing the book and looking at Yang.

“Thank you for showing me that Blake, really,” Yang said, a bit dazed as she absorbed all that had been revealed in response to a single question. She was overjoyed to have learned something new, something real about Blake, and though she was dying to ask more she dared not ruin the perfection of that moment by pressing further.

To her surprise, Blake actually invited another question, albeit somewhat timidly. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

Of course there was; she wanted to know everything, but she also sensed that pushing for everything would yield nothing, so took a safer route. “Is that your favorite book?” She asked, indicating the book of poems in Blake’s hands.

“No, not necessarily. It’s a great collection to relax with though. My favorite would have to be ‘The Man with Two Souls’, but it’s not exactly light reading.”

Yang could hear the hedge in the statement, the implied ‘you don’t have to like what I like,’ but someone would have to be completely oblivious to not see how important books were to Blake, making her favorite book of particular value. “Do you have a copy you could lend me?” she asked.

“Yang, you don’t have to, really,” Blake began in protest.

“I mean if you don’t want to part with your copy I can find my own...”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just. Do you really want to read it?” Blake asked incredulously.

Yang nodded that she did, and couldn’t help but notice the poorly disguised excitement with which Blake lept from the bed to fetch it from another box in the closet. It didn’t matter if she liked the book herself, what mattered was that it was important to Blake, and therefore would be another look into her elusive inner world. After a few minutes of rummaging and a muffled exclamation of triumph, the elated woman returned with her book, handing it to Yang, who accepted it with a smile. The pair locked eyes for an extra beat, the moment broken only when a vibrating scroll across the room reminded them that the rest of the world still existed.

“It’s yours,” Blake said, picking up the offending device and tossing it towards the bed.

Yang caught it deftly with one hand and flipped it open. “It’s Ruby, checking in and, fuck, is that the time?”

“What? Oh yeah, I guess it is kind of late,” Blake replied, looking at her own scroll and seeing it was well past midnight, late by most people’s standards.

“I’ve got to get home and get some rest. If I stay out too late with you people will talk,” Yang joked, scooping up her jacket from the back of the chair and sliding her boots on. When she was settled she turned back into the room, her expression soft. “I had a really great time tonight. Breaking and entering aside,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh.

Blake stood, suddenly feeling awkward and unsure of what the proper thing to do was, but nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it was really great. I’ll uh, see you next Saturday?”

Yang looked as though she was considering closing the distance between them, but thought better of it. “Yes you will,” was all she said, but nowhere near all she meant. Opening the door she paused and looked back, “Goodnight, Blake.”

And then she was gone, and Blake was alone in her empty apartment, made emptier still by the absence of all of that light and energy and life.

“Goodnight, Yang,” she whispered.

\--

Yang turned onto her street around 1 AM, keeping the revs low so as not to wake everyone on the block. She opened the front door as quietly as she could and walked in to find her roommates on the couch, Weiss running her fingers gently through the hair of a very much asleep Ruby. Yang felt like she was intruding on a moment, and between that and her late arrival home she expected another lecture, but the look on her roommate’s face was far from angry. She simply indicated that Ruby needed to be brought up to bed and got up to lead the way.

Shaking her head at the fact that Weiss didn’t even need to speak to give orders Yang scooped up her sister and brought her up the stairs where the covers on the bed had already been pulled back. Tucking the comatose form in, she crept out into the hallway and gently knocked on the slightly ajar door to Weiss’s room. Receiving an invitation, she stepped softly in.

“Hey Yang, close the door behind you, would you?”

“Sure,” she said, doing so quietly.

“Have a good night? You don’t have to answer, I can tell by that ridiculous grin that you did,” Weiss teased.

“Look who’s talking, how was your night?”

“It was good. I mean to be honest Ruby slept for most of it, but it was still...nice.” The normally cool gaze had gone momentarily dreamy and distant but it quickly returned to the present, if somewhat warmer than usual. “Thank you for checking in with Ruby when she texted, it made her feel included and less like you were off getting mugged.”

“That last text was from you, wasn’t it?” Yang asked, realizing it as she spoke.

Weiss didn’t even pretend otherwise, “Yes, but only because her scroll was the only one within reach at the time. My point stands.”

Yang knew that was likely only partially true, but couldn’t do anything but laugh. “I’ll try to keep it up going forward, I really don’t want you two to worry about me. Time for me to crash. Goodnight, Weiss,” she said as she departed for her own room.

It would be a while before sleep found Yang, and she used some of her restless energy to start her new reading assignment. The story itself was dense and not quite Yang’s preferred style, but the idea of discovering key insights into Blake’s personality helped her hang on every word until she could no longer keep her eyes open. Mind and heart full, she turned off the light and sank into a deep sleep.


	8. Staying Focused

The smell of coffee and the gentle murmur of voices eventually crept their way into the corners of Yang’s sleeping mind, bringing her back from odd dreams full of heists and quiet beaches. Grabbing the nearest shirt and pajama pants she groggily clothed herself and staggered down the stairs. The trek to the kitchen felt interminably long, yet somehow not long enough for her to fully regain consciousness before she arrived.

“Morning sleepyhead, we were wondering if you were ever going to wake up,” Ruby teased from the kitchen table, halfway through a bowl of cereal. “Must have been some date,” she added with an exaggerated wink.

“I told you, not a date,” Yang mumbled reflexively. “Please tell me there’s coffee.”

“Obviously we saved you a cup,” Weiss said, pouring the remainder of the pot into a mug and reaching to hand it over. Before Yang could grasp the precious offering it was intercepted by Ruby, as surprisingly fast always.

“Oh no. Coffee is for people who share details about dates,” she chided playfully, dancing nimbly away and taking a teasing sip.

“Ruby, I know where you sleep. Coffee. Now,” Yang moaned, pawing at her with all the ferocity she could manage in her current state, which admittedly was very little.

“Ugh, fine. Here. But I still want to know how your night was. You know, when you got dinner and hung out with Blake. Totally as friends,” she said, looking at her roommate conspiratorially. “You know how it is Weiss, just two gals being pals.”

Weiss snorted but after an incredulous look from Yang found herself very occupied by her own mug, realizing that she wasn’t all that interested in piling on in this particular instance. Even without her help, Ruby’s wheedling won out and Yang gave up a heavily edited but generally true version of the night's events. When she was done she accepted the appropriate amount of teasing, which was provided with great alacrity.

Soon, obligations besides poking fun at each other became more pressing and Weiss and Ruby packed up to head to the library yet again. Yang did not envy them all the time they spent studying and made a point of letting them know that she would be spending her Sunday definitely not doing that, earning her more than a few grumpy looks as the pair walked out the door. Once they were gone and the coffee had done its job Yang went upstairs to change into running gear. Whenever possible she liked to use the weekend for long runs since weekday obligations made it tough to fit in more than a couple miles at a time. Headphones in and trainers laced, she bounded down the stairs and into the cool late morning, setting a brisk pace with no particular destination in mind.

Or at least, no intentional destination. Part of her subconscious clearly had other plans as forty or so minutes later she found herself running down Blake’s street, only realizing where she was when it was far too late. Panicking, she decided the best option was to pick up the pace and get out of there before she was spotted and looked like the biggest creep ever.

Yang started pumping her arms and legs faster, heart hammering as she practically sprinted to the end of the block, not stopping when she rounded the corner or the next three after that. She only slowed her pace when she had put a few miles behind her, saying a silent prayer that she hadn’t made a total fool of herself as she caught her breath.

When she finally returned home she stopped to stretch and took out her scroll, which claimed to have one new message. From Blake.

Great.

**Blake**

> _The weirdest thing happened today. I was just coming out of the coffee shop on the corner of my street when I saw this buff blonde chick sprinting past me like she was being chased by demons. Crazy, right? Made me think of you for no particular reason, hope you're having a restful Sunday!  
>  _

Yang realized at that moment that one cannot, in fact, die from embarrassment, as evidenced by the fact that she could still feel her heart pounding in her chest. Once she got done stringing every foul word she knew together into a single florid sentence she looked back at the message and actually managed to see the bright side. Blake had texted her, that was something. She had also seemed amused, which was almost worth the mortification. Almost. Playing it cool was kind of off the table at this point, so Yang decided to just roll with it.

> _Man, that is so wild, people are nuts!_
> 
> _Was she cute at least? Maybe if she runs by again you should get her number._

She held her breath while watching the indicator that said Blake was typing, smiling when she was rewarded with a reply.

> _I didn’t get a great look at her since she was moving so fast, but if I happen to see her again I’ll be sure to check her out and let you know what I think._

Yang laughed and went inside, opting for a cold shower.

The rest of the week passed in a happy blur, with Yang’s usual routine punctuated rather frequently by little messages from Blake. In between morning runs (short enough that she managed to avoid repeating her shenanigans from the weekend), lab time, and daily gym sessions she was constantly finding new messages waiting for her; either little notes or links to interesting stories or simply silly pictures, and naturally she responded in kind. She was so distracted by her own joy that she didn’t even notice the knowing glances passing between her roommates whenever they caught her face lighting up at the latest buzz of her scroll.

Saturday evening arrived all at once, and with it came a darker thrill that displaced some of the effervescence of the past several days. Combat was a jealous mistress, and Yang did her best to give it her full attention as she prepared. The smile on her face as she did her makeup revealed her struggle as it alternated between goofy and feral, and she had to remind herself that it was time to focus, to remember that a moment’s hesitation or distraction could be the difference between victory and defeat. Her buzzing scroll almost sent her back to her daydreams, but the message it contained was all business.

**Blake**

> _You ready?_

Yang blew out a deep breath and steadied her gaze. She was.

> _Let’s do it._

\--

“You go into a fight looking like that? No wonder those poor fools can’t focus enough to defend themselves!” Blake exclaimed when they met at the train station.

“Shut up. I just wear this out to maintain my cover story. You don’t exactly look bad,” Yang gibed back, indicating her form-fitting jeans and crop top visible beneath an open jacket.

“Oh please, I’m mostly dressed for crawling through vents, not turning heads like you.”

Yang grumbled as she got on the arriving train, any chance at witty response obliterated by the fluttering in her stomach she felt at the compliment tucked inside the teasing. Blake got on behind her, laughing at her flustered companion, and stood in self-satisfied silence as she matched Yang’s glare with a pleasantly neutral expression. It was clear how hard she was working to maintain her mood, her scowl fading by the minute as a smile threatened to raise the corner of her lips. By the time they reached their stop she mostly gave up her act and looped her arm through Blake’s to guide her off the train and down to the street.

Some minutes later they strode into the entrance of the Vault and wound their way to the storage locker. Yang retrieved her bag and ducked into the bathroom to wash her face and change for the fight, tossing loose sweats and a hoodie on over her gear. When she exited the bathroom she smirked and spun as though she were on a runway.

“Still think I’ll turn heads?” she joked, indicating her new look.

“Somehow I think you’ll manage.” Blake deadpanned. “In fact, I’m hoping you do. It will help me sneak around unseen. Let’s go,” she said, and the two made their way out into the darkening evening.

As they approached the makeshift arena Yang grew more serious, her stride changing from girl out on the town to that of a predator stalking its prey. Blake felt a mix of fear and excitement seeing the transformation, and fell back a half step to let Yang lead the way to the entrance. Though the preliminary fights weren’t going to start for a little while a crowd of shady looking men and women was already forming around the door and being held back by a pack of large bouncers who were letting people in one or two at a time. Ignoring the line completely Yang walked up to one of them in particular, an enormous man who was easily as wide as he was tall.

“Where the hell do you think you two little ladies are going?” He barked, barring the entrance. Blake hesitated, suddenly feeling extremely exposed.

“I’m going to kick some ass, as always,” Yang shot back, a smirk forming on her lips. “I’ll happily start with you, Rasher. You have plenty to kick.” 

“Ha! Fuck you Dragon,” he snorted. “Someday I’m going to take you up on that and we’ll see if you’re as tough as you think you are. Luckily for you, I’m feeling generous tonight, so maybe another time.” Given the big man said all this while going through a rather elaborate handshake with Yang it was clear to Blake that this was apparently their usual greeting. As they finished he nodded his massive head at her, “You normally come alone, who’s this?”

“She’s with me,” Yang said by way of explanation, offering nothing else.

Clearly it was enough for Rasher as he simply shrugged and waved them through. As they walked past him into the dimly lit interior he called a warning over his shoulder, “May not want to leave that one alone killer, folks around here are kind of handsy!”

“I assure you I can take care of myself!” Blake called back, doing her best to turn her stride into a swagger while putting her arm around Yang suggestively, drawing a guffaw from the big man at the door.

They made their way through the growing crowd by the entrance. After veering off to walk behind the rickety-looking risers they passed a heavily trafficked table where a bookie was taking bets next to a man who was selling questionable looking beer from a rusty keg. Yang moved through it all with purpose, despite never having been in that exact building. She instinctively followed the flow of the crowd until she found a hastily scrawled sign that said “Ready Room” hung on a door standing slightly ajar. Upon entering they were faced with about a dozen fighters, all staking out their space on one of the tilting wooden benches and silently staring each other down, a few receiving last-minute tips from trainers or friends who had come with them. Blake was relieved when Yang walked straight through the room full of brutes toward a door marked “Champ”, which she entered as though she owned the place. And for all intents and purposes, that night she did.

Yang dropped her stuff and flopped down on the dilapidated couch that had been placed in the small room, kicking her feet up and looking like all was right with the world. “What?” she asked, seeing Blake’s raised eyebrows.

“Nothing, just admiring the queen in her castle. Is there anything I can get for you, my liege?” she snarked with a courtly bow.

“Not now, peasant, I shall be fine for the moment,” Yang said, laughing at the eye roll she got in return but dropping the act. “Seriously though, I’m here earlier than usual to give you a chance to snoop, so we’ve got time. First fight should be in about a half-hour, I’ll be three hours after that, give or take. I’ll start warming up in an hour or so, and then final prep at about t-minus forty-five minutes. Honestly, I just need you back by showtime so if you find anything good follow your lead. That’s why you’re here.”

“That’s one of the reasons I’m here,” Blake reminded her, shedding her coat on a chair in the corner of the room. “I’m also here to support you, and I intend to do my job. I’ll be back.”

With that Blake vanished back through the door, off in search of her quarry. Yang was tempted to call her so she could follow her progress like she had the other night, but realized with the crowd noise it would be worse than useless. Besides, she still needed to prep for her fight. Eventually. In the meantime, she decided to rest her eyes.

An hour later her alarm woke her, the slightly muffled sound of a crowd exploding into cheers reminding her of where she was. Idly wondering if someone had just gotten KO’d she got up, drank some water, and started working through her stretching routine. Unlike most of the goons who fought in her ring (and lost, she thought smugly), the Dragon prepared for the fight. Stretching, warming up, visualizing her attacks and those of her opponent; she didn’t just count on adrenaline and bravado to win her fights. Those didn’t exactly hurt, but they weren’t enough.

As her warm-up continued, urged on by the frequent reactions of the crowd outside, she did her best to stay focused, but the long absence of her partner was starting to worry her. Just when she was considering heading out to take a look the door swung open and Blake strode in, looking slightly dirty but no worse for the wear. “Am I late?” she asked, a slight flush of exertion still fresh on her cheeks.

“Not at all, just about to tape up,” Yang replied, visibly relieved. “Did you find anything?”

“Sorry if I worried you, and not as much as I had hoped. Here let me help you.” Blake said, taking gauze and tape from a surprised Yang and starting the process of wrapping her hands. “What?”

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“There are tutorials for everything on the net. Literally everything. Let me know if it’s too tight,” she said. Her dexterous hands moved with a surprising amount of assuredness, only pausing a few times as she reran the steps in her head. “Stop staring like that, I take my assignments seriously so I did my research. Flex your hand to make sure you can close it comfortably. Perfect,” she said mostly to herself, deftly moving on to the other hand.

“You really are full of surprises,” Yang said. Blake hummed in agreement, clearly proud of herself. “So what did you find?”

“Unfortunately almost nothing, whatever they’re doing, they’ve got it well hidden. There were a few rooms I couldn’t get to despite trying a few creative routes through the ventilation shafts and eventually I gave up and stuck to scouting the crowd. All I really discovered was that there are way more faunus here that I would expect given local demographics. I also saw a few faunus in particular moving through the crowd handing out small slips of paper, possibly for the White Fang.”

“That’s not a lot to go on.”

Blake shook her head solemnly, done with her work, “I know, that’s why I need you to win tonight. I need to come back and spend more time in the crowd to see what I can learn.” She looked up at Yang from where she was kneeling, catching the full force of that infamous game face. It was terrible and beautiful all at once. Fitting for one called the Dragon.

“Good thing I didn’t come here to lose.”

\--

When the last preliminary fight was done Roman took his position in the center of the ring, giving a far longer and more animated introduction for the main event than he had for earlier bouts. Yang didn’t bother listening to the intro for her opponent most nights, she didn’t need to know their names, and their records were largely fabricated to make them sound better anyway. Mostly she just spent the time shaking out her limbs and psyching herself up; waiting to hear the call for the Dragon to enter the ring.

Blake waited silently, perched on the couch just out of view of the bouncing fighter. She could see that this time was important to Yang, that she needed to be allowed to bring the entirety of her focus onto the task at hand. It was almost a guilty pleasure to be able to watch, feeling like a fly on the wall, an intruder in a space typically reserved for one. She was so intent on making a study of the transformation in front of her that she almost missed their cue, but Yang didn’t. She shook her head and pounded her fists, turning to acknowledge Blake for the first time in several minutes. Giving her a truly fearsome grin she nodded towards the exit, so Blake leaped up, carrying the paltry medkit and water bottle, and opened the door to let the champ strut through.

When they left the makeshift locker room they were assaulted with the sights and sounds of a crowd significantly larger than the one Blake had been scouting just an hour prior. The weight of it pressed in on them, or at least on Blake; Yang hardly seemed to notice. If anything she seemed to drink in the energy, growing more fearsome with each step and shining ever brighter, while her shadow fought to hide her discomfort at being so close to the center of so much attention. She breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the ring, her first breath of any sort since entering the big room, while Yang stepped up onto the canvas to posture for her fans much to their very obvious delight.

Once Roman had finished giving his instructions he sent the fighters back to their corners. Yang came over and knelt, without waiting for instructions Blake handed over her mouthpiece and reached for a container of the precious vaseline, rubbing some across Yang’s brow and nose, then across her high cheekbones. Knowing it would make her harder to cut and keep the sweat out of her eyes at the same time she was careful to do a thorough job.

“Told you that you’d see the light,” the Dragon said with a smirk.

“Yeah yeah, nectar of the gods,” Blake said. “Just make sure to win, ok?”

Blake couldn’t help but enjoy this side of Yang. Sure it was aggressive, but the confidence and swagger were infectious, and the look in her eyes spoke of a wild freedom that called to something deep within her. She laughed as the fighter threw her a wink and turned back towards the center of the ring. While the room around her rumbled with pre-fight anticipation Blake sat down quietly in one of the few ringside seats to watch, trying not to be nervous for her friend.

Yang waited for the bell, sizing up her opponent in those precious seconds. Taller than her by a few inches, as most were; lean, but with well-defined muscles displayed by his lack of shirt or any discernible body hair. Broad-shouldered and long-limbed, he held himself like a boxer and even wore small gloves similar to her own, black where hers were gold. If he was a kickboxer she knew she could have trouble getting inside his reach, but otherwise, she saw little that worried her.

The bell rang and the two fighters moved toward the center of the ring, hands up, looking for openings or obvious defects in their opponent's guard. Yang decided to start orthodox, leading with her left and matching the man she faced. Using the same stance inherently closed the distance between him and her power shots, but also put her closer to his, a trade she felt comfortable making. Preferred, even.

Yang circled to her left while firing off a series of jabs, hoping to catch him off guard. He followed her effortlessly, however, and soon backed her up with a well-placed jab followed by a lead hook, which she only just managed to weave and had to move out of range in the process. Taking a breath to reset, Yang stalked back in, coming straight at him this time in an attempt to draw out another jab. When he obliged she quickly ducked under the punch and threw a solid right into his ribs, eliciting a satisfying grunt on impact. Before she could follow up with anything else he was loading a counter so she stepped back again, sizing him up for another attack.

The first round largely continued that way, with a few close calls punctuating what was otherwise a relatively dominant round for the champ. She hadn’t quite cracked his defense yet, only landing a few solid body shots, but she had evaded basically everything he had thrown at her with relative ease. She went back to her corner after the bell sounded and Blake handed up her water bottle and checked her face quickly for any cuts, seeing none.

“Don’t forget that this isn’t a boxing match,” Blake said, finishing up her brief exam.

“What do you mean?” Yang replied, spitting a mouthful of water over the side of the ring there may or may not have been a bucket to catch it.

“He’s got you so focused on boxing that you’re forgetting about your other options.”

“Uh, thanks. I think I’ve got this though, he’s not that good,” Yang said. She didn’t want to sound condescending, but she wasn’t used to being told what to do between rounds and it rankled her more than a little.

Before Blake could respond the bell had sounded and the fighters were back at it. There was nothing she could do but wait and hope to be proven wrong.

Yang shook off the minor frustration of the conversation and walked back in, confident that she could take the guy in front of her, and obstinately determined to do it her way. While things began as they had in the first round, Yang controlling much of the action, there was a subtle shift to the action as the seconds wore on. Over time her punches weren’t landing as cleanly, and his shots were finding their way through her defenses. Twice he snuck past her guard to land a punishing left on her ribs, missing the liver shot but still leaving her gasping. Trying to regain her momentum Yang fell back on earlier tactics, walking in and ducking the jab, and almost meeting with disaster. What she thought was a long straight punch was, in fact, a clever feint, and before her cross could find his diaphragm he had fired a right uppercut aimed directly at her face, now placed ever so conveniently closer to the point of impact by her own body movement.

Lightning-fast reflexes saved her from a broken nose but even pulling back and blocking wasn’t quite enough, as his punch drove the back of her own hand up into her face. Not so much dancing as staggering, Yang pulled back to the far side of the ring. Her vision was swimming but quickly cleared, and she didn’t need to look to know that she had a serious nosebleed.

Fuck.

She raised her hands and prepared to re-engage, spitting blood to the side without breaking eye contact and hoping it looked intimidating. Based on his reaction, it did not. The smirk on his face showed that he knew he had her number, but before he could close in and try to finish her off the bell sounded, and Yang had to pretend to be disappointed as she pulled up short and turned to walk back to her corner.

Before Blake could even say anything resembling “I told you so” Yang spit her mouthpiece into her own hand and admitted defeat.

“I’m sorry, I was wrong and bull-headed and should have listened to you. Also, my nose is bleeding a lot.”

Blake didn’t move to intervene, simply crossing her arms and looking up at the bloody mess before her. “And?”

“...and...please help me?”

“Sure,” Blake said, suddenly nothing but pleasant smiles and assistance. Stepping up through the open gate she wiped as much of the blood off as she could with gauze, examining the damage. “You got lucky, looks like the worst is over. Here, I’m not sticking my fingers up there.”

She held the little yellow tub up to Yang and the woman laughed as she took a hefty dose and shoved it up her nose, blocking the flow of blood. “Fucking vaseline, right?” Her jaunty smile at the result was hampered somewhat by the blood staining her teeth.

“Oh my gods. Just, here, rinse your mouth out and listen. This guy is a great boxer, and he clearly has your timing. You need to stop fighting his fight. Also, he has a bad left knee.”

“Where did you learn all this?” Yang asked, shocked at the specificity of the advice.

“I told you there are tutorials for everything. Also, I may not know much about prizefighting but I know how to fight, and I know how to spot old injuries. His left knee. I’m telling you.”

“Someday you and me are going to have a chat and you’re going to tell me how you know so much about, well, everything,” Yang said, rewetting her mouthguard. “But right now I need to go kick a guys ass. Be back in a sec!”

Blake returned to her seat. “Yeah, someday,” she said to herself.

From the crowd’s perspective little had changed in between rounds. Yang was still looking for shots and largely coming up empty, her opponent landing counters seemingly at will. Seeing this started murmurs amongst the audience. Many were worried that they were finally going to lose money on the long-reigning champ, while those few who bet against her were already planning how they would spend their winnings.

All of that came to a head when Yang stepped in, throwing a jab with her left that was just a little too slow, and anyone with the right view saw a look come over her opponent’s face like he had just been given a wonderful gift. His overexuberance caused him to throw more into the counterpunch than he intended, putting his weight well out over his front, left leg. When his target suddenly dropped out of his line of sight it occurred to him that he may have made an error, but by then he was committed. He never saw how the seemingly lazy jab had suddenly been pulled back as the thrower reversed the rotation in her hips, bringing her head down and to her left, well out of the line of fire. The full gravity of the situation hit him with an explosion of pain in his left knee, which informed him that he had just been kicked very hard by a low sweeping right.

The fight was, for all intents and purposes, over then and there. Both of the people in the ring knew it, despite neither being quite ready to admit it. The crowd was holding its breath, so caught off guard by the sudden change in momentum they weren’t sure what was going to happen. It was only when his leg completely gave out and he was forced to lower his hands to break his fall that the room seemed to fully understand what had happened, anticipation bringing the silence of a collective inhale. The man managed to catch himself, but only long enough to look up at the Dragon and see a terrible, bloody, triumphant smile on her lips as she delivered a wink followed by a crushing right.

As his head hit the canvas the crowd erupted, all except for those poor fools that thought they had finally beaten the odds. Yang looked over at Blake while Roman came in to proclaim her victory, and as her arm was hoisted aloft she mouthed her thanks to the girl who had saved her a second time.

\--

“Oh my god, is that a tampon in your nose?!” Blake asked incredulously.

“What? I couldn’t get the bleeding to stop on the left side! This is a known technique for dealing with nosebleeds.”

Yang had just reemerged from the Vault, by all accounts looking ready for a night on the town, minus her new nasal adornment. Amused by Blake’s horrified expression she spent their entire walk back to the train making playfully seductive faces at her. Despite her best attempts at maintaining a straight face, Blake was laughing so hard she could barely breathe by the time they reached the station.

“Stop, I get it, your nose tampon is super hot,” Blake said as she gasped for air, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’m just glad you’re ok. This is us,” she announced as the train pulled into the station.

Given the lateness of the hour they had most of the car to themselves, but nonetheless sat side by side in a corner, watching the city go by from the elevated tracks. After a few minutes of silence, Blake noticed their reflection in the window and realized that Yang was looking right back at her and likely had been for some time. Caught red-handed, the blonde smiled sheepishly and turned her eyes away.

“So, uh, you want to grab a drink or something?” she asked, making a careful study of the pattern on the floor.

“Oh, I, uh,” Blake fumbled.

“Yeah no, that’s ok,” Yang said breezily, her cheeks reddening.

“No, it’s not that. I just-”

“Don’t want to grab drinks with someone with a tampon shoved up their nose?” came the reply, with just enough levity in it to offer the stammering Blake an easy out.

“I mean, that doesn’t exactly help,” she said, smirking, then added, “I just feel like I’m not making enough progress with this...you know, my project.” Even though the train car was devoid of anyone to eavesdrop it still felt dangerous to talk about it too often. “Not to mention I have work from my actual job to do.”

“Blake, it’s the middle of the night.”

“I know, that’s when I do some of my best thinking,” she replied defensively.

Yang was silent for a few stops, her face inscrutable. They got off where they had met earlier, one to walk the handful of blocks to her lonely apartment while the other caught a bus the rest of the way home. After a brief hesitation, Blake was beset by the other’s strong embrace, though just for a moment.

“Thank you. You saved my ass again,” Yang said as she stepped back.

Blake ducked her head, overwhelmed by so much gratitude. “Hey, I’m in your corner now. Besides, I should be thanking you. What you’re doing for me really means a lot.”

This drew a glowing smile from Yang, the effect only somewhat diminished by the cotton string dangling in front of her lips.

“Well, I have to go catch my bus, I really need to get some sleep. Goodnight!” she added, any disappointment at the minor rejection from earlier seemingly gone.

“Thank you for the invite,” Blake said, holding her gaze. “Really. Can I get a rain check?”

Yang’s smile softened. “Of course, go do your work. We’ll talk soon,” she said, and after a brief but loaded pause walked off into the night. 

Blake watched her fondly for a moment, seriously considering calling her back and saying she’d changed her mind. Fear of the implication of her desire convinced her to remain silent, however, and she walked back to her apartment. Alone, but with the warm feeling that Yang always seemed to leave behind keeping her company.


	9. Girls' Night In

**Yang**

> _Bad news, I just got the date of my next event. It’s not until next month. Location TBD._
> 
> _Ugh, not ideal._ _I guess I’ll try to track other leads in the meantime._ _How’s the nose?_
> 
> _Stopped bleeding, but it doesn’t feel great and might be a little crooked._
> 
> _I’m worried my modeling career might not pan out now._
> 
> _Somehow I think you’ll be ok. Any questions from the roommates?_
> 
> _Thankfully they were both in bed when I got back, no explanations needed._

Blake stared at her scroll, trying and failing to come up with some way to continue the conversation. She knew she should be using her Sunday evening in more productive ways, but suddenly all she could think about was the girl on the other side of the screen. Despite her sincere promise to herself to keep it professional she obviously wasn’t, but also couldn’t quite manage to be upset about it. For the first time in a long time, Blake felt like a normal person instead of a researching machine that ran on cold tea and leftovers. Before she could even type anything Yang beat her to it.

> _So I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks then? For planning purposes._
> 
> _Not sure too much planning will be needed, I’ll be taking a different approach this time._
> 
> _Oh, yeah that makes sense. So, see you at the fight then, I guess?_

Blake could feel the disappointment in her words and hastily started typing several replies, all of which she deleted before settling on one.

> _I still have a rain check for drinks, don’t I?_
> 
> _That you do!_
> 
> _I’ll probably want to cash that in sometime between now and next month_
> 
> _Looking forward to it!_

Ok, now back to work, Blake thought to herself, trying to wipe the dopey smile off of her face.

\--

Yang fought her way, mostly metaphorically, through another week. Going to the lab was becoming torturous. Progress on the neural link had ground to a total halt as she discarded idea after idea of how to fix her fundamental problem. Other than a few good sparring sessions and lunches with the ever-optimistic Pyrrha (“You’ll figure this out Yang, I know you will!”) the only thing that put a smile on her face were the frequent texts from Blake. It was never anything major, but through little bits and pieces, she felt like she was being given a look into the mysterious woman’s life. Sure, she still knew almost nothing about her past other than she grew up near the ocean, which narrowed her birthplace down not at all, but it felt like she was learning the rhythms of her mind, and she treasured every revelation.

As the weekend arrived and no real plans for it materialized her mood soured. Quiet weekends could be nice, in theory, but after the excitement of the last couple, it just seemed like it would be empty. Friday night her fears panned out. Ruby and Weiss were out on what they definitely insisted was not a date, and everyone else was busy with work or school or just didn’t feel like getting off the couch. There weren’t even any texts from Blake to keep her entertained, as she was off doing her reporter thing covering some startup event where everyone claimed their app was the one that would change the world.

After flipping through every channel a few times and scrounging together dinner from scraps in the fridge she moped up to her room and flopped down on the bed. “The Man with Two Souls” stared down at her from her nightstand and her spirits lifted as she reached out for the book, enjoying the small connection to Blake she felt every time she held it.

Hours later Ruby and Weiss returned, leaning on each other and laughing, lost for a moment in their own private world. They quieted only when they got to the top of the stairs and heard snoring from Yang’s room, peeking in to find her passed out with her bedside lamp on and a book splayed across her chest.

“That snore doesn’t sound great, think she has a cold?” Weiss whispered, watching as Ruby padded into the room.

“No, sounds more like she has a slightly deviated septum, weird.”

Ruby removed the book, glancing at the title curiously, and set it aside. After pulling up the covers and turning out the light she paused, resting her hand on her sister’s forehead just in case she was sick. It was an odd feeling taking care of Yang, she had always seemed larger than life in Ruby’s eyes, totally invincible, so thinking of her for even a moment as a patient to be cared for created a slight cognitive dissonance. She knew logically that her sister wasn’t invulnerable, but feeling it was another matter and made Ruby love her even more for all she had done for her over the years. Not wanting to wake her, she removed her hand and backed quietly out of the room, letting her eyes linger on the prone figure.

As she closed the door she was greeted by a soft but conflicted look from Weiss. Ruby knew it was hard for someone from such a difficult family to see the easy closeness between the two sisters, but all of that was well-trodden ground between the two of them, so there were no words needed.

“What was she reading?” Weiss asked, sticking to a safer topic.

“‘The Man with Two Souls’. Weird, right?”

“Yeah, I read that for a literature class back in undergrad. Wouldn’t have pegged that as Yang’s style.” 

“Me either,” Ruby responded thoughtfully.

“Think it’s Blake’s style?” Weiss asked.

“I’m sure of it.”

\--

The next day Yang awoke, far later than intended, to find the others had come and gone while she slept. Not looking forward to another day moping around alone she texted her sister and was happy that her reply came almost immediately.

**Ruby**

> _Hey! Are you ever going to be done studying?_
> 
> _I mean honestly, not for like another 6-10 years._
> 
> _Lame!_
> 
> _You don’t have to tell me._
> 
> _This is one of my last full weekends off for a while though, want to hang around the apartment tonight?_
> 
> _We could make dinner and play board games and stuff!_
> 
> _Sounds perfect!_
> 
> _I look forward to destroying both of you! I’m assuming Weiss will be joining?_
> 
> _Ha, you wish! And duh, she’ll be there. She says hi by the way._
> 
> _Great, enjoy studying you two!_

Yang was instantly in a better mood at the prospect of some hangout time, especially with how busy her sister had become in the past year. A moment later she got another notification.

**Blake**

> _Hey, any chance I could cash in that rain check tonight? I spent all day yesterday talking to tech bros and now I find myself thinking in terms of growth hacking and ROI. Please help!_
> 
> _Gah, sorry, I just made plans to hang out with Ruby and Weiss tonight.  
>  _
> 
> _No worries, another time then!_

Giving it a moment of thought Yang sent a quick back and forth to Ruby, who agreed with her proposal instantly. She just had to hope Blake would be down.

> _It’s not a bar but we can have drinks at my place you know._
> 
> _Oh?_
> 
> _Yeah! Any interest in hanging out with the super cool kids while they play board games on a Saturday night?_
> 
> _That sounds lovely, but I don’t want to intrude._
> 
> _The more the merrier!_
> 
> _Come over whenever. I’ll be around._

After a bit more convincing that she wouldn’t be ruining anything Blake agreed, saying she would come by in the early evening and bring some drinks.

\--

Several hours later Blake had successfully massaged her rough first draft about the hot new startups in town into something close to submittable, panicked about what to wear, agonized in the wine and beer aisle at the corner store for far too long, and generally worked herself up way too much for what was supposed to be a chill evening. Just hanging around with some friends, people do that all the time, Blake assured herself, surely it shouldn’t be this stress-inducing.

Opting for the bus over driving given her armload of alcoholic impulse purchases (oh god, they’re going to think I have a problem, fuck!) Blake then had to struggle the two blocks from the stop to their front door with her unwieldy package. Despite the effort to get there she still had to fight the urge to bolt and instead reached out awkwardly to ring the buzzer, only just rebalancing her load in time. The buzz was rewarded with the thump of footsteps and a muffled but approaching voice calling something back into the house. The speaker revealed herself to be Ruby, who laughed when she saw the overburdened woman on her doorstep.

“Whoa Blake, what did Yang tell you to bring?”

“Oh, uh, you know, just some drinks.”

“You do know there’s only four of us tonight, right?” Ruby asked, inspecting the contents of the bag as she guided Blake inside.

“Yeah, sorry, I just didn’t know what everyone liked to drink so I got a little bit of, you know, everything?”

Ruby laughed good-naturedly and, seeing the obvious discomfort on her guest’s face patted her on the shoulder before offering to take the bag. “It’s fine, Blake, thank you. For future reference the only picky one here is Weiss.”

“Hey!” came the reply from the kitchen.

“Oops, didn’t know she could hear me. Whoa, this is so heavy. But seriously, thank you, I’ll go put things away. You can leave your shoes and jacket by the door. Welcome!” With that Ruby staggered into the kitchen, leaving Blake to find an open hook on the somewhat overburdened coat rack and giving her a moment to collect herself before properly joining the others.

Heading toward the commotion in the back of the house she found the three girls in a state of organized chaos. Ruby was ducking in and out to tuck Blake’s many purchases in the fridge as necessary, dodging Weiss as she grabbed various vegetables and chopped grumpily while muttering about taking orders. Through it all bustled Yang; directing, stirring, seasoning, and tasting as necessary. In between checking a simmering pot and giving Weiss a new order to harumph about the beaming cook turned her smile on the new arrival.

Blake couldn’t help but feel warmed by that smile. She had seen Yang direct it at her other friends but it still felt special, like she had a particular one just for her. She did her best to return it but couldn’t help being a bit bashful, unsure as she was of her place in the group.

“Is there anything you need help with?” she asked, hoping to be useful.

“Not at all, let chef Yang take care of everything tonight!” Yang responded cheerfully.

Weiss looked up from her chopping. “Everything?” she asked, clearly offended.

“Fine. Let chef Yang and her wonderful assistant take care of everything,” Yang conceded, hardly missing a beat. “Ruby will get you a drink and you two can watch the master work.” 

With a flourish of her wooden spoon, she turned back to the large bubbling pot that seemed to be central to the whole process and got back to work. Ruby fetched everyone drinks, mostly just grabbing the nearest cold beers for herself, Yang, and Blake, then going through the entire list of options twice with Weiss before she was asked to uncork the bottle of red wine from Shion.

“See, told you she was picky,” she said to Blake as she joined her by the counter.

“I’m not picky! The word you’re looking for is discerning. This wine is delightful by the way, an excellent choice. I’m glad someone around here besides me has some taste.”

Relieved that she had done something right, Blake visibly relaxed. “I wouldn’t say I necessarily have good taste. I just remember my dad once saying that Shion made some of the best red wine, so I thought I’d grab some.”

Yang perked up slightly at this new tidbit of information, scant though it was, but she knew better than to press and so didn’t turn from what she was doing. Weiss, on the other hand, decided this was a chance to learn more about this new presence in their home.

“What does your dad do, exactly?” she asked, her tone veering noticeably from curious to interrogating.

Blake paled at the question, taking a long draw of her beer to buy time. “He, ah, he works for...” But the words just wouldn’t come. She couldn’t bring herself to lie but the truth was out of the question. Not here. Not now. True panic began to set in until she was rescued by her own personal ray of sunshine, stepping over with a hot spoon.

“Here try some of this broth. I’m always a genius but this might be some of my best stew ever,” Yang announced, seemingly oblivious to the unanswered question hanging in the air. She held the steaming spoon out to Blake, who took a tentative sip. It was delicious, but it didn’t contain a way for her to extricate herself from the corner she had so neatly placed herself in. Or so she thought. Before she even finished swallowing the remaining contents of the large spoon tipped out directly onto her.

“Ow!” she cried, the soup burning a little, even filtered through her the front of her blouse.

“Oh gosh, I am so sorry! Here, here’s a napkin. Shit, that’s totally going to stain.” Yang dabbed ineffectually at the mess she had made. Blake tried not to look too grateful. Seeing the suspicious glare coming from Weiss, she did her best to play along.

“No, it’s fine, I’m sure it will come out,” she said, trying desperately to sound distressed.

“You don’t want it to set though,” Yang said matter-of-factly, doing a wonderful impression of someone considering options before landing on a solution. “There’s a washing machine upstairs, go throw it in now and it should be ready by the time you leave. You can borrow one of my shirts. My room is up there too, second door on the left.”

Yang shooed Blake towards the stairs and completely ignored the look from Weiss as she went back to cooking. Ruby, meanwhile, had been watching the back and forth closely but couldn’t quite say why everything felt weird. Blake didn’t wait to see how things unfolded. Instead, she fled up the stairs towards a reprieve from difficult questions, no matter how brief it might be.

“Yang, what the hell?” Weiss hissed, knowing full well that her friend was up to something.

“Whoa, Weiss, chill, her hand slipped, it’s not a big deal,” Ruby said, attempting to de-escalate the brewing fight.

“Ruby, please, Yang is many things, but a clutz is not one of them. Well?” she demanded, turning back to her original target.

Yang’s shoulders slumped as she turned the heat down to a simmer and faced her accuser.

“Ok, yeah, I covered for her,” she admitted.

“Why? What is she hiding?” Weiss demanded.

“Look, honestly, I don’t really know,” Yang said back, mindful that her voice didn’t carry. “But she obviously felt uncomfortable talking about her dad. Something you of all people should appreciate, Weiss.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not, but please, just let this slide,” Yang pleaded.

Weiss let out a sharp breath and nodded curtly, “Fine, I won’t press. But I’m not a mind reader, so it’s not my fault if I ask an out of bounds question by mistake.” As she washed her hands in the sink her anger seemed to ebb, and she looked at Yang with genuine concern. “I just hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I...” Yang began, but she cut off as she heard the stairs creaking. A moment later Blake cautiously padded back toward the kitchen, wearing a Beacon University t-shirt from her undergrad days that was adorably loose on the smaller girl.

“Maybe I should have directed you to one of the other’s closets,” Yang quipped, resetting her carefree grin.

“Yeah, we are slightly different sizes. Pretty sure I can make it work though,” she said, looking down at the loose top with a bemused grin. Shrugging, she gathered up the loose material and tied it off on one side, smugly watching as Yang’s eyes drifted appreciatively over her now bare midriff.

“Focus Yang, wouldn’t want any more spills,” Weiss said sarcastically, pulling bowls down from the cabinets.

“Yeah, totally focused. That said, maybe everyone should just serve themselves so we can avoid any more wardrobe malfunctions,” the chef replied, to general agreement.

The tension rapidly dissolved and the girls fell into easy conversation, even Weiss grudgingly accepting that Blake was a welcome addition. She certainly couldn’t argue with the effect her presence had on Yang, who was obviously smitten and doing a poor job of hiding it. Everyone stuck to neutral topics, largely discussing things they were working on or general life developments, Blake more than holding her own in the boisterous and opinionated group.

Once everyone was sated and dishes were stacked in the washer the group sprawled around the living room and took stock of available board games. Though Yang lobbied hard for _Remnant: The Game_ she was quickly shouted down with protests of her underhanded tactics and accusations of rule-bending if not outright cheating. Somewhat miffed by her suggestion being rejected she immediately vetoed Weiss’s for _Settlers of Catan_. Eventually, they settled on _Scrabble_ , largely because it was the only game Blake seemed to have any familiarity with.

“I still don’t know how you’ve never played _Remnant_ ,” Yang lamented. “I was hoping someone would finally be able to challenge my reign.”

“Sorry, I guess board games just aren’t my strong suit,” Blake said, staring into her nearly empty wine glass as she swirled it around. More like having friends isn’t my strong suit, she thought grimly.

But Yang was having none of her self pity. “Well hey, words are your strong suit no excuses if I kick your butt.”

Her teasing was just right to jostle Blake out of her internal pity party, and she downed the rest of her wine all at once. “You’re on blondie.”

\--

“That’s not how you spell ‘gamble’!” Yang said incredulously, pointing to the word Blake had laid down.

“You’re right, it’s not how you spell ‘gamble’, it’s how you spell ‘gambol’,” she replied sarcastically.

“Huh, it actually is a word,” Weiss interjected, having reached for the official dictionary immediately.

“No way, what does it even mean?” Yang complained.

Before Weiss could read it Blake answered, “It means to run or jump about playfully.”

Ruby and Yang looked at her like she was out of her mind, then consulted with Weiss.

“Yeah that's exactly what it means,” she admitted.

“Sorry for reading books,” Blake said mockingly into her (third, was it?) glass of wine.

“I think you should demonstrate for us, so I really understand,” Yang said with a wicked grin.

Ruby quickly joined in. “Yeah Blake, you should totally gambol around the room.”

“Hard pass,” Blake said, unable to avoid laughing along with their antics.

Play continued, Yang and Ruby both complaining that technical terms from their field should be allowed after both of them were shot down. Weiss had apparently memorized every two-letter word in the dictionary and was happily racking up points by landing on all of the multipliers, eliciting many groans and boos from the rambunctious sisters. After a few more rounds Blake found herself looking at three sets of doubtful eyes again.

“Not only is defenestration a word, it is also something I would gladly demonstrate. But I’ll need a volunteer, Yang?”

“I don’t know, that is not comforting. What’s the official ruling?” Yang asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“It’s a word,” Weiss said, not needing to look it up. “and you definitely should demonstrate, because you invited the person who just crushed me with that one. And a triple word score, shit!” Hearing the normally proper Weiss curse so casually made the whole group laugh. Moments later Yang found the definition for the word in question on her scroll and laughed even harder, passing it to Ruby so she could be in on it.

“You know what, I do volunteer,” Yang announced, jumping up and stepping over the board. Blake cocked an eyebrow at her, thinking maybe she had read the wrong definition until she found herself scooped up from the floor in a fluid motion. “This one definitely needs a demonstration. No time to open the window though, you’re going through it!”

Blake did her best not to look like she was enjoying herself as much as she was. “Put me down you brute!” she cried, laughing despite herself.

Yang stopped mid-stride, “But how will we savages ever truly learn the meaning of this beautiful word if we don’t see it in action?”

“See my previous statement: you could always try reading books,” Blake teased.

“Ugh, fine. You’re no fun,” Yang said, looking like she was, in fact, having quite a bit of fun. She gently set Blake back on her feet and laughed all the way to the kitchen, asking if anyone wanted anything and returning with the requested drinks.

\--

“Hey, Blake, you should probably wake up.”

The voice, soft and warm and full of light, floated down and plucked Blake up from the depths of sleep. At first, she tried to fight it and return to the restful darkness, but as bodily awareness returned she reversed course immediately.

When had she fallen asleep?

Where was she?

Why were there people around her?

No.

“No!” she shouted, jerking up and pulling away from the hands that had been gently holding her, putting distance between her and this stranger while stumbling to her feet.

She blinked rapidly to clear the sleep from her eyes, bringing her hands up instinctively. When her vision cleared she was looking at three pairs of wide eyes, the girls stunned to silence by her violent waking.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just. Everything’s ok, Blake,” Yang said in a voice one might use for a frightened child.

Yang.

Oh. Right.

“I’m sorry, I was just having a bad dream, it’s not your fault,” Blake mumbled, buying time for her mind to clear. “Wow, how long have I been asleep?” she asked finally.

“Not that long, maybe a half-hour, you looked so comfy we didn’t want to wake you at first but everyone’s thinking about heading to bed,” Yang said, still in that tone. Blake realized her hands were still held up like a shield and lowered them, trying to remember how to stand casually.

“Oh right, of course. Sorry, I can go.” She turned toward the door, embarrassed by her display and eager to be out in the cool night air where she could clear her head and hopefully slow her hammering heart.

Yang’s voice, still so calm and even, stopped her from simply bolting. “We weren’t necessarily kicking you out. If you want to crash here that’s fine, we just figured you might be more comfortable in a bed. We have a guest room if you aren’t up to make the trek home.”

Blake shook her head, “No, I couldn’t impose. Besides, if I passed out like that I could probably use a full night’s sleep in my bed. I’ll just call a cab, it’ll be fine.” She was reasonably sure her voice sounded even. Pretty sure. 50/50. It would have to do. She looked up at Yang’s uncertain smile, wanting so badly to fix the moment she had clearly broken. “I had a really, really great time, thank you so much. All of you. This was wonderful.”

“Of course Blake, any time!” Ruby chirped, still chipper despite a deep yawn giving away her fatigue.

“It was lovely to have you, Blake,” Weiss added. Her voice was genuine but her eyes were probing, and it made Blake more than a little nervous. After a moment she seemed to come to some internal decision, nudging Ruby as she got up. “I think we will bid you two goodnight. We both need to be rested tomorrow to hit the books bright and early.”

“Ugh, thanks for reminding me and ruining what was otherwise a perfectly enjoyable evening,” Ruby responded, but she understood the intended message and followed her friend sleepily up the stairs.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Yang asked softly.

Again Blake saw the offer and was mystified. There should have been strings attached, requirements, expectations. She looked and looked and was more afraid for their lack.

“No, thank you though, really.”

“At least let me wait with you for the cab to get here.”

“Yeah. Yeah ok,” she finally allowed.

The girls grabbed their jackets and stepped out into the night. The air was crisp and the stars burned bright around the jagged pieces of the moon. Blake watched her voice turn into puffs of steam as she spoke into her scroll, giving the address and her name. Well, a name.

“Won’t be long,” she said as she hung up.

Yang hummed in response, staring up at the sky. Looking at her profile bathed in moonlight Blake was stunned into silence. The gentle rays highlighted the curved and angular features of her face simultaneously, framed as always by her wild mane of hair as it moved subtly with a whispering fall breeze. Her intelligent eyes shone brightly as they reflected the shattered orb above and the intensity of that gaze took Blake’s breath away. Somehow the flat, monochromatic light brought together the disparate sides of her personality and Blake was able to see the scientist and the fighter as a unified image, along with the sister and friend she now knew her to be, and the lover that she secretly hoped she could be. Beautiful didn’t begin to describe the image before her. Radiant, that was it; or possibly majestic. Blake was sure she couldn’t come any closer than that in description, just as she was sure she couldn’t move to cross the small physical distance between them now. She desperately wanted to, wanted many things, but the fear of what would come next was too great. Eventually, this luminous woman would want to know everything, and if Blake closed the gap between them she would have every right to ask.

She considered staying silent, but eventually broke down, not wanting to leave things unsettled. “I’m sorry again, about before, how I reacted,” she said softly.

“Blake, it’s fine. People get startled when they wake up in weird places,” Yang replied, turning from her study of the sky to look at the nervous woman on her steps.

“No, I know, but,” Blake began. She considered stopping there; again she had been given an out, again she could walk away without revealing anything about herself. She knew she should. She also knew she couldn’t. “Look, I’ve had some bad experiences,” she started; haltingly at first, but when Yang didn’t interrupt she found the words coming more naturally. “I just haven’t always felt safe around others. Probably because I haven’t always been safe. But this, tonight, that’s not about you. Being kind of drunk and falling asleep unexpectedly disoriented me and I guess old habits kicked in.” Looking up at the broken moon Blake felt far too much kinship there but dropped that thought before it could go to darker places. “I don’t have friends Yang,” she found herself saying, hating how pathetic it sounded. “Like, at all. Not because I just moved here. Because I just don’t. I haven’t in a long time.”

“Well, you didn’t have friends,” Yang interjected with a look that raised Blake’s spirits considerably.

“I guess you’re right,” she said, the small smile playing at her lips faltering as she went on. “But that’s kind of the thing; this is so great, and I’m so lousy at it. I can’t remember the last time I played a board game or just sat around talking with people I wasn’t interviewing. Hell, the last time I was invited to sleep over at someone’s house who wasn’t just trying to fuck me I was 10!”

The sudden silence after her outburst was punctuated by the wind rustling through the trees. Blake wanted to feel the peace of that moment, but inside her, a storm was raging and she was afraid that if she let any more out she would end up telling Yang everything, and she couldn’t. Not now, maybe not ever.

The decision was made for her when the cab pulled up, flicking its lights to get her attention. As she moved numbly down the stairs she was caught up in a tight embrace. Warmth radiated into her at every point of contact and she suddenly wasn’t surprised at all she had fallen asleep in the presence of that comforting heat. She was on the verge of doing the same again, despite being upright and outside.

“You always have a place here.” Yang stepped back so she could look into Blake’s eyes. “Always. And you certainly have friends.”

Blake struggled to form a response. What could she possibly say to someone offering her something so profound, and so profoundly needed? Especially when it was so completely undeserved. For all of her books and words and years spent honing her ability to verbally express herself, she found herself empty of anything that could serve as a worthy response. To make matters worse a small voice in the corner of her mind was reminding her that it could be a trap, that good things didn’t happen to people like her, and even if they did she would poison it anyway. It was too much for the sleep-addled woman, and all she could manage was to reach out and take Yang’s hand briefly, hoping her touch spoke more eloquently than her lips could.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Not waiting for a response Blake slipped down the driveway and into the cab, covering the intervening distance like a wraith. Despite Yang’s kind words she couldn’t help but feel that she had ruined the evening, and possibly so much more. Her urge to flee was so overpowering that it took all of her self-control not to demand the driver floor it, and instead sit back quietly as he put the car in gear. Unable to stop herself she looked back toward the house and watched as several emotions played over Yang’s face, relieved that they pulled out of sight before she could see what won out.


	10. Coming Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: this chapter has a bit more violence than prior ones. No gore, just stuff that can happen in a fight and still within cannon-level violence, but if you get easily squicked out by injuries consider yourself warned.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today, why don’t you share, Ms. Xiao Long?”

Yang jerked her head up, looking around at her labmates, all of whom were looking back at her and clearly expecting something. She quickly scanned her memory of the last few seconds (a trick she had mastered during years of slacking off in class) to figure out what Dr. Polendina had asked and thought back to her blur of a week.

“I, uh, may have had a breakthrough with sensory feedback.”

“Oh? That’s wonderful! What did you come up with?”

“I’ve had success with heat, general pressure, as well as the kinetic sense of where the arm is in space relative to the user’s body, but touch has been tough to detect in any meaningful way. This week I tried combining higher fidelity pressure sensors with moisture and vibration sensors calibrated based on the coefficients of friction of the sensing surface. The signal is kind of messy but the initial tests I’ve run make it seem like I could be on the right track. Once I have a better method of encoding the various inputs I’ll crank up the resolution on the fingertips and I could be looking at a pretty reasonable approximation of the biological sense of touch.”

“That’s amazing! Well done. How has the other aspect been coming along?” he asked, gentle as always.

“Honestly? It hasn’t. I’m still stuck,” Yang said, trying not to sound as defeated as she felt.

The old researcher nodded sagely. “Roadblocks happen Yang. The important thing is not to get discouraged. Ideas come when they’re ready, and not a moment sooner.”

He patted her shoulder, comforting but not condescending, as his chair walked around the table. “That’ll be all for today everyone, I won’t take any more of your precious time. Back to thinking great thoughts!” he said with his trademark enthusiasm. Yang felt that ‘great’ was overselling things a bit in her case, but she got up with everyone else and started back to her workbench.

“Yang? Anybody home?” came a teasing voice, apparently not saying her name for the first time.

“Oh, hey Pyrrha! Sorry, my head is really in the clouds today. What’s up?” she replied, trying to shake her troubled thoughts.

“Come grab lunch with me, I’m starving and could really go for some falafel.”

“Oh, I feel like I should try to get some more work in...” Yang said vaguely, not knowing what she was even going to work on.

Pyrrha was having none of it. “You’re fine, sounds like you made some serious progress recently. Besides, it’s been forever since just the two of us hung out. Come on. Pleeeease?”

“You know I never could say no to those big green puppy eyes,” Yang said, a smile finding its way onto her face as her ambivalence dissipated. “Fine, what the hell? I’m always hungry anyway.”

Pyrrha insisted on driving, not being a huge fan of motorcycles, and they rode most of the way in silence, Yang staring out the window and watching the trees go by. “You’re awfully quiet,” her friend observed.

“Yeah, it’s been a wild couple of weeks.”

“Because of Blake?”

“There are other things in my life you know,” Yang huffed.

“Ok, point granted. But is it because of Blake?”

“...maybe.”

“Talk to me Yang,” Pyrrha said with such concern that Yang gave up on trying to deflect.

“I don’t know, that’s the problem!” she burst, opening the floodgates. “Everything was so good, I mean she’s really hard to figure out but we seem to really click. You know? Then she came over and hung out with me and the girls on Saturday night and then nothing since. It’s Thursday! It seemed like we had a great time but she totally ghosted me.”

“Have you tried reaching out to her?” Pyrrha asked so calmly that her worked up passenger almost missed the question entirely.

“I just... no? Not exactly. I have not,” Yang said, feeling sillier with each syllable.

“Ok, well maybe before you assume anything you could try talking to her. Weiss mentioned that things were a little, tense, at the end of the night.”

Realization dawned on Yang and she turned an accusatory glare at her friend, “You already knew all of this, didn’t you?”

“Weiss may have filled me in somewhat,” Pyrrha admitted guiltily. “But only because she and Ruby are worried about you.”

“Well, I’m fine.”

“Clearly. I just wanted to check.”

They reached their destination, Yang sulking and indignant and Pyrrha choosing to ignore her temper tantrum. As she turned off the car Pyrrha took a breath, clearly intending to make peace, but paused when she saw her friend take out her scroll and type a quick message. She smiled brightly at the grumpy look Yang gave her when she was done and they got out of the car.

“I hope you're happy,” Yang grumbled.

“I am, but only because I think you are too.”

Yang sighed; it was impossible to truly be angry at Pyrrha long under ideal circumstances, and it was almost impossible when she was right. Sending that text had lifted a huge burden, but she couldn’t let her friend off the hook so easily.

“I think you owe me lunch.”

“Fine, if it’ll make you feel better,” Pyrrha said breezily, smirking as she led the way into the restaurant.

\--

Blake felt her scroll buzz in the middle of a staff meeting and nearly ducked out to check it, knowing immediately who it was. Almost everyone else who even had her number was sitting around the big conference table with her, who else could it be? It took every ounce of self-control but she managed to stay in her seat until the end, though the pace of her pen tapping increased to the point that it could reasonably be considered a vibration for the last few minutes. Finally, stories assigned, typical office minutiae discussed, and all egos in need stroked, they were dismissed and Blake made a beeline for her desk as she pulled out her scroll.

**Yang**

> _ Hey, just wanted to check in after Saturday. Sorry to intrude if you need space right now but I wanted to make sure you’re ok. Totally understandable if you need some cooldown time, but I’m here when you’re ready. Also, you forgot your shirt, let me know if you want that back! _

Relief flooded her body. She had been so genuinely kind in the moment, but Blake had been certain that given time Yang would realize that she was damaged goods. Surely she would bail or worse, keep helping her out of a sense of obligation. Blake had erased at least a hundred drafts of a message over the past few days, but she couldn’t bring herself to send any of them, but with a single message, her writer’s block was gone. She marveled at how easily Yang rescued her from herself, making everything seem so clear and simple when for days it had been anything but.

> _ Hey! I’m ok, really. At this point just assume I’m constantly sorry for, you know, who I am as a person. _
> 
> _ Blake, you don’t have to apologize all the time, especially for who you are. _
> 
> _ Thanks, I’ll try to keep that in mind. _
> 
> _ Do. _
> 
> _ Also, I really love that shirt, maybe if you have time this weekend we could meet up? _
> 
> _ That would be great! Then I can get my shirt back that you absconded with. Fair trade? _
> 
> _ Hm, I kind of like that shirt too. It might be too integrated into my wardrobe for me to give back. Sorry! _

Blake was not going to admit that she had slept in that shirt every night since Saturday, but she was also hoping if she deflected enough Yang would drop it. Which she did, mostly.

> _ Haha, ok weirdo, I’m sure you’ll start a new trend of baggy shirts and bare midriffs. As you know I don’t have any major plans for the next few weekends so it’s kind of up to you. _
> 
> _ I’m free tomorrow night, does that work? _
> 
> _ Perfect! _

Blake sat back in her desk chair, content at last. She had no idea how the wild blonde who seemed to set her on fire with her mere presence also made her feel so calm and sure, but she did know that she was done pretending not to like it.

The following night Blake arrived back at the scene of her meltdown, hoping to avoid a repeat performance. Yang welcomed her into the quiet house, explaining that Ruby and Weiss were out doing their own thing, adding air quotes heavy with innuendo as she did. Yang cooked and they sat and watched a movie, something inoffensively bland that was mostly an excuse for them to sit near each other for a few hours. Neither brought up the events of the weekend prior, and Blake especially was grateful for that. When she left to get in her car she found herself struggling not to skip or giggle audibly, sure that Yang could already read her emotions in the enamored smile that she had failed to hide all night and not wishing to embarrass herself further. She was relieved, though, when she snuck one look back to see a very similar grin splitting Yang’s lovely face.

She wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but Blake found her way back over to Yang’s house quite a bit over the following two weeks. Sometimes she would just stop in for dinner (Yang always cooked for her, and Blake didn’t fight it given her utter lack of culinary skills) and other times she’d stay to spend time with Ruby and Weiss as well, both of whom she was growing rather fond of. More than once she forgot some small thing or another, which obviously necessitated a trip out the next day to reclaim it. She even came over a couple times to research or write while Yang read tech journals or white papers. They hardly spoke on those occasions, simply enjoying each other’s company in a way Blake had never experienced before. In between her frequent visits, their texting had become nearly constant, a fact that Ruby and Weiss used at every opportunity to tease Yang.

The arrival of the night of the fight was a rude awakening for both of them, snapping them back to the reality of what they were doing. They had bypassed the scouting mission, Blake having determined that sneaking through air ducts wasn’t going to get her what she needed, and Yang seemed on edge.

“Relax, I’m not going in totally blind. I have a plan,” Blake reassured her as they walked down the street leading to that night’s arena.

But Yang wasn't buying it. “Do you have a plan? An actual plan?”

Blake put on a brazen smile. “I definitely have an outline. Maybe more of a mission statement,” she said with a laugh at Yang’s scowl. “Don't worry, it’s going to be fine. You just focus on doing what you do best. I’ll handle everything else.”

Yang, already in her pre-fight sweats, shook her head in disbelief, “And people say I’m cocky.”

“You must be rubbing off on me,” Blake said, not even trying to disguise her flirtatious tone.

Before the fighter could muster a response they had reached the gate leading in and she was exchanging (un)pleasantries with Rasher. Once inside, Blake gave Yang a reassuring squeeze, promised to find her before the fight, and slipped into the crowd.

An hour later Blake was looking at the murky beer she was pretending to drink, focusing to make out a single conversation over the general noise of the crowd. One of the two men was built like a bruiser but had a surprisingly kind face under his ram horns, and did not look like he was interested in where the current topic was headed. The other, a small wiry faunus with the tail of a fox, was the one Blake had been shadowing all night. He appeared to be alone, but was constantly approaching different faunus in the crowd and chatting with them. More often than not the conversation ended with a covert exchange of those slips of paper she had seen before, always tucked away before she could get a decent look at them. Some, like this one, did not seem to be headed in that direction.

“Look pal, I’m not your brother. I only came here to watch the fights and drink shitty beer,” the horned man said, clearly uncomfortable.

“But surely you understand the importance of our cause.”

“Sure, yeah, whatever. I guess I’m just not one for causes,” he said as he backed away slightly, clearly looking around for an excuse to bail.

The fox faunus was having none of it, stepping in aggressively. “You say that now, but who will be there for you when the humans come for you or your loved ones?”

“Look, buddy,” the man replied as he scooped his antagonist off his feet by the collar of his jacket. Suddenly the kindness had drained from his features, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the man who was dangling from his large hands. “I said I’m not interested. Go peddle your fanaticism somewhere else,” he growled as he deposited the smaller man none too gently back on the ground. With one last threatening look, he turned and stomped off into the crowd, people making way for him quickly and wordlessly.

Seeing her opportunity, Blake sidled up to next to her mark as he righted his jacket and tried to regain his dignity. Taking one look at her he sniffed in disgust and started seeking his next target.

“That didn’t go well,” she commented, indicating the still retreating horns, visible above the rest of the crowd.

“Yes, I noticed. Thank you so much for that wise observation. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he sneered back at her, his disgust quickly shifting to full-on hatred.

“What if I said I was more sympathetic to your cause than him?” she ventured, sipping her vile beer and looking everywhere but at the dark eyes that had turned back to reexamine her.

“Then I would say you're a liar, just like the rest of your kind,” he said, his eyes narrowing, searching. Finally making up his mind he snorted disdainfully and turned on his heel.

Seeing her chances of discovering anything evaporate Blake grew desperate, “Brother, wait.” she said, her voice low and insistent as she reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Get your hands off me you vile human,” he spat, his voice full of so much venom that she recoiled as though he had slapped her. Her determination won out though, allowing her to continue with her gambit.

“Who said anything about me being human?” she said, straining to keep her voice level.

Her implied claim left the man laughing cruelly and shaking his head, “Everything about you says human, girly, and that’s the point.” Before Blake could protest he went on, “Which means either you are human, not your fault but kind of a nonstarter here, or you just pretend to be one.” Pausing for a moment he looked her up and down again. “Which is far, far worse.” Concluding his assessment of her, recognition sparked in his eyes, and Blake felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Oh I know you,” he said with a growing smirk.

“No, I’m pretty sure we’ve never met,” Blake said nervously, realizing the potential folly of her plan.

“Sure I do, you’re the Dragon’s new pet. I saw you fawning over her at her last fight,” he said, throwing several meaningful looks at her up through his brows. 

Blake kicked herself mentally for overreacting. Of course, everyone here had probably seen her. Hard to hide when you’re standing next to the person everyone is looking at. “Yeah, what of it? Also, I really don’t care for the term ‘pet’.”

“I don’t give two flying fucks what you care for girly. You claim to be ‘sympathetic’ to our cause? Fine, but you need to stop hiding what you are. Stand tall in front of everyone as your true self and maybe I’ll talk to you. Maybe.”

Clearly done, he dismissed her with a shake of his head, already looking for more desirable conversation partners. Fighting the urge to run, Blake walked quickly towards the fighter’s area, flinching as the man lobbed one last comment at her back. “Oh, and girlie, you follow me around again and I’ll kill you. Fair warning.”

She turned, the witty retort she had loaded dying on her lips as she saw that he was gone, already lost in the crowd.

“Fuck.”

\--

Yang was just starting to stretch when Blake returned. “Hey! How did it go?” she asked brightly, realizing the answer immediately as her partner started pacing manically. “That well, huh?” she said, wincing. The pacing continued, punctuated by occasional subvocal mutterings and furtive glances around the room. Several times she stopped as though she was going to start explaining herself, but each time cut herself off and continued her circuit of the small space. “Cool, cool,” Yang said, her concern growing with each lap of the room the frantic woman completed. “Well, I’m going to just keep stretching then. You let me know when you want to talk.”

“You know how I keep a lot of secrets?” Blake blurted, cutting her off.

Yang couldn’t help but laugh at this massive understatement, “Blake, you’re nothing but secrets.” Seeing the hurt look this inspired she softened her tone, “But I don’t care. So you have things you don’t want to talk about, I still feel like I know who you are.”

“What if you don’t?” Blake asked quietly, suddenly still.

“I don’t understand.”

Realizing there was no other option, Blake reached up for her ever-present bow and slowly pulled it loose. As it fell away she found she couldn’t look Yang in the eye, sincerely believing that she would feel less exposed standing completely nude in front of the woman rather than as she was now.

“Blake,” Yang said, her eyes wide and mind reeling as she tried to process the soft, black, cat-like ears atop her friend’s head.

“I’m so sorry,” Blake whispered, tears straining at her eyes and her newly exposed ears going flat in shame. “I wanted to tell you, I did. I just couldn't.”

In two quick strides, the blonde closed the distance between them, drawing a surprised gasp from Blake as she wrapped her in an increasingly familiar embrace. It took the scared faunus a moment to unfreeze, still so sure she was going to be rejected in revealing her deception, but eventually, she wrapped her arms around those strong shoulders.

“Aren’t you mad?” she asked, her voice muffled as she buried her face in Yang’s neck.

“No, Blake,” came the soft reply, “Confused? Yes. Surprised? Abso-fucking-lutely. We’re definitely going to need to talk about this.” She said, pulling back and holding up her hand to stop Blake from interrupting. “But not right now. This isn’t exactly the time or place.”

“So you’re really not mad?” she asked, needing to be sure.

“No, if anything I’m a little relieved. More than once I swore I saw your bow twitch, so at least I know I’m not crazy,” Yang said, somehow finding it in herself to joke through her shock.

“I’m not sure that’s proof you’re not crazy, just that you weren’t seeing things,” Blake replied, surprised at her own capacity for humor despite the dizzying combination of emotions she was experiencing.

After a moment of searching for the right words, Yang ventured, “Not that I’m complaining, because I always want to learn new things about you.” Blake almost laughed to hear such a major revelation lumped in the category of ‘learning new things’, but remained silent as her friend continued. “But why tell me here? Why now?”

Blake steadied herself, trying to get her mind back to the matter at hand. “Because the White Fang is using these fights to recruit new members and I’m going to join.”

After pulling her jaw off the floor Yang demanded a recap of the evening. Once she’d been given the summary of events and the resulting plan she took a moment to process it all, but her face made it clear she was less than thrilled.

“So you want to join?” she asked slowly.

“Yes.”

“A terrorist group?”

“Yeah...”

“And this is a good idea?” Yang cried, disbelieving.

“It’s all I’ve got. Do you have something better?” Blake shot back.

“No, that doesn’t mean I have to like it. What if it’s a trap?”

“Pretty sure if that guy wanted to kill me I’d already be dead.”

“Excuse me if that doesn’t exactly put my mind at ease,” Yang snarked. Pausing, she found herself thinking through the logistics despite herself. “I don’t suppose he’ll approach you tonight right after the fight?”

“He might, but I wouldn’t count on it,” Blake admitted, “Fortunately, I suspect that you didn’t come here tonight to lose.”

Much of Yang’s concern dropped and was replaced by a feral grin as she agreed, “Indeed I did not.” Then her smile regained some of its gentle warmth as she winked, “Lucky you.”

A short time later, Blake poked her head out of the door, nervously surveilling the room where she would soon be seen for the first time in years without the bow she had worn like both a shackle and a shield. As she did she listened absentmindedly to the announcer's voice, talking about the latest challenger. Some guy going by the moniker “King Cobra” and boasting an impressive but imperfect record.

“Huh, weird.”

“What’s weird?” Yang asked, already in fight mode, constantly moving her head and shoulders, throwing punches at an opponent that only she could see.

“This guy has almost no wins by knockout, all by submission.”

“Fuck,” was the only reply. Movement stopped, eyes closed, the fighter appeared to be reviewing some internal catalog.

“What is it?” Blake asked, unsure at the sudden shift.

“He’s a grappler. I hate grapplers.”

“What’s the big deal? You train in grappling, don’t you?” she asked, a note of concern working its way into her voice.

“I mean yeah, but it’s not really my thing. It just takes a different mindset to fight people who use it primarily, which this dude obviously does. Give me a sec,” she said, continuing her odd meditation.

Hearing the familiar call for the champ, Blake shook her head and opened the door. “Times up, I hope you’re ready.”

With a grim look on her face, Yang stalked past her, her fight persona slipping into place. Before it could fully assert itself she let slip a single look of doubt.

“Yeah, me too.”

Then it was gone.

“Showtime,” the Dragon declared.

“Yeah, showtime,” Blake said, following in her wake and bracing herself for her own personal battle.

\--

Fucking grapplers, Yang thought, midway through the first round. Despite switching stances multiple times, breaking her rhythm, and employing feints liberally, she just couldn’t close with this guy. He wasn’t terribly big, and the way his clothes hung from his limbs indicated he wasn’t even that muscular. Regardless, any punch that was too obvious or not immediately retracted was grabbed, leaving Yang to scramble to break his hold and forcing her to give up on power punches altogether. Low kicks were turned aside with easy checks from his legs and Yang knew better than to risk a high kick that would hand him an easy takedown. Worse still, the whole round she had danced and weaved at a fast pace, moving in and out trying to sting him with flicking punches while staying out of his grasp and generally burning through her energy. He, meanwhile, just stalked forward calmly, only revealing his blinding speed when he saw an opening, returning to his calm and poised stance after they separated.

The bell rang, and Yang stared daggers at the man as he gave a slight, mocking bow, and calmly returned to his corner. Stomping back to hers she was greeted by Blake, still looking self-conscious without her bow but obviously more worried about the fight at the moment.

“Yang, you’re letting him control the pace of the fight.”

Fighting back a spark of anger the woman nodded, accepting the truth of it. “I know, I know, you’re right. How would you approach this guy?”

“At night, in an alley, from behind, preferably with a weapon,” came the reply, ticked off like a shopping list.

“That answer required disturbingly little thought to formulate,” Yang retorted, smiling despite the less than ideal situation. “Unfortunately it was also completely useless to me in this instance.”

“I know, I’m sorry. This might be a little out of my depth.” Blake felt horrible admitting it, but they didn’t have time or room for guesswork.

“That’s ok, I was just hoping for an easy answer. Instead, it looks like it’s time to do what I do best.”

“And what’s that?”

“Something reckless,” she said with a shrug as she turned to face her opponent.

As round two started Yang moved more slowly and Blake was left to hope it was on purpose and not because she had tired herself out already. She watched silently, trying not to bite her nails down to stubs, and doing her best not to look as uncomfortable as she felt. The walk out had been a test of all of her willpower, every ounce of her being screaming at her to run when the lights illuminated her uncovered ears. Even knowing all eyes had been on the strutting blonde in front of her she couldn’t help but feel as if they had all been aimed right at her. Blake was not ashamed of her heritage, but she had been hiding for so long that such a dramatic and public display was almost more than she could bear. If not for the nearness of Yang and that incredible gravitational pull that seemed to exist between them Blake was sure she would have lost her nerve and run; finding the nearest shadow and melting into it to disappear into the night.

It was too late for that now, though, and she did her best to look calm and self-possessed, hoping her display would be enough to show her ‘brothers’ that she was one of them. Her private concerns were pushed aside as the two fighters clashed. Yang got the worst of it, very narrowly escaping being thrown to the ground, and Blake fervently hoped that whatever crazy plan the fighter had in mind worked, for both of their sakes.

\--

It took until most of the round was gone before the cagey man took Yang’s bait, finally lunging for the lead left knee that she had all but gift-wrapped for him the entire time. Even as he shot in she saw his wariness, so rather than spring the trap she sent a short lead uppercut glancing off his face. It wasn’t enough to hurt or stun the man but it halted his progress and sent a clear message: no half measures. If he was going to take the Dragon down to the ground he was going to have to come in like he meant it.

A few seconds later he made his move, shooting in hard right under her hands, thinking he finally had her trapped. Before he could find his hold, though, he felt those hands come down heavy on his shoulders, and suddenly the knee that should have been momentarily still while it bore weight was hurtling up, connecting squarely with his face.

By pure instinct the man stumbled back, one hand in front of him to fend off attacks while the other reached toward his freely bleeding and visibly broken nose. As his vision cleared he saw a terrible smile on the face of his young opponent, and she charged in to finish him off. Before she had a chance to close the distance the bell sounded, and she stopped, snorting her frustration like a bull stymied by a matador. Her demeanor shifting in an instant to infuriating cockiness she blew him a kiss and walked to her corner while the man shambled back to his own to regroup.

“Damn girl, that was slick!” Blake said appreciatively as Yang walked over to her, sure that victory was now just a technicality.

“Not slick enough,” Yang replied, not nearly as jovial as she had seemed a moment earlier.

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

“The wary bastard waited so long to take the bait that I didn’t finish him.”

Blake shook her head, not understanding, “But you caught him clean, definitely broke his nose.”

“Won’t matter, they’ll patch him up, and even if he can’t breathe through it he’ll probably still be fine. Worse, now he won’t fall for that again,” Yang said, taking the proffered bottle and swishing some water around her mouth as she thought.

“So you’re back to square one,” Blake said grimly.

“Pretty much, and down one trick.”

“Got another?” she asked hopefully.

“One or two, but they don’t get any safer from here. Also, I just really pissed him off, which will either distract him or encourage him to fight harder,” Yang said with a resigned shrug.

Round three proved that the Cobra was not distracted, and despite two blackened eyes and a crooked nose, he was still more than capable of fighting. Yang picked up her pace just a little, not enough to wear herself out but also too fast to present an easy target. All the while she watched his eyes, trying to figure out where he would strike next. Eventually, she saw the look a predator gave its prey and braced for his rush. She almost laughed when he lunged for her knee again, setting himself up for a repeat of their last encounter. She reached out to grab him as before and almost stumbled when he jerked to a halt and righted himself. Despite a last-second save Yang was still completely off balance and entirely on her front foot. She knew she was in trouble when she felt his hands come down on the back of her neck, putting her in a collar hold to prevent her from standing up or backing away.

Fighting down the panic of being in such a vulnerable position Yang ran through her less than thorough training in escaping the hold. Her thoughts were promptly interrupted as he used his leverage to launch his knee at her face, obviously hoping to pay her back for his own injury. Catching his thigh with her hands, she softened the blow enough that it was inconsequential and used the moment it took him to reset his feet to throw two quick uppercuts into his solar plexus. Without the ability to drive with her legs they lacked true power, but the contact was enough of a distraction to encourage him to reposition again. While he did Yang went in the only direction a collar hold allowed: down. She dropped to one knee and quickly drove her shoulders forward and up into the man’s hips. Grabbing behind his knees to put him off balance she executed what was probably the best takedown of her life and scrambled to mount her downed foe.

Unfortunately, once on the ground, the Cobra was in his element, and Yang quickly found herself fighting to avoid the various arm locks and chokeholds that started coming her way as fast as she could counter them. Several of them she only escaped by swiping furiously at his nose, knowing it was so sensitive that she barely had to touch it to distract him for a few precious seconds. Finally, nearly spent, Yang managed to roll away and regain her feet, sweat flowing freely down her face. Infuriatingly, the man across from her climbed up easily, looking no worse for the wear discounting a slow trickle of blood restarting from his nostrils.

The sight of him standing up so casually was the last straw. Yang couldn't hold back her rage at being toyed with, at being handled so easily. She was going to break this man. Forgetting her fatigue and feeling that familiar sense of power flowing through her veins, she pulled her hands in tight and charged in ferociously, weaving madly from side to side as she closed the distance. Once she reached her range she unloaded, sending three powerful punches in such quick succession she almost didn’t notice that not a single one connected squarely with her intended target, all of her blows being absorbed and redirected calmy. As she followed through on the last hard right she felt him grab her arm and pull her off-balance, catching her completely off guard. Spinning backward into her he executed a flawless hip toss, driving her into the canvas so hard her breath exploded from her lungs. One last spark of fury gave her the strength to lever onto her shoulders and kick wildly at his nose, causing his eyes to tear up as his head snapped back.

Yang scrambled to her feet but was unable to free her arm from that iron grip. Even without being able to see clearly, the man seemed fully in control, twice using his hold to pull her off balance as he tested her. Seeing her bracing herself he gave one more pull, not moving her but pulling himself behind her while still holding her arm out at extension, exposed.

In a single effortless motion, he raised his left arm and brought his elbow smashing down on her shoulder, dislocating it. The crowd went wild at such a display of brutality, almost drowning out the sound of the bell. The Cobra dropped Yang’s now useless arm and strode back to his corner, hands in the air like a magician after flawlessly executing a stunning trick.

For her part, the Dragon was silent, staring down at her misshapen shoulder as she walked numbly back to her corner. By the time she got there, Blake had already wrenched open the gate that blocked her entry and leaped up next to her, trying and failing to stay calm for her stunned friend.

“Yang, oh my gods, we need to get you to a hospital,” she said, reaching out for the hanging arm before pulling back, afraid of causing her pain.

“No,” came the ragged reply. Swallowing, Yang strengthened her resolve and steadied her voice. “No, not yet. It’s not over yet.”

“Yang, it looks pretty over to me. Please, let’s just go,” Blake pleaded, confused as to why she seemed to be in more pain than the injured woman in front of her.

“Put it back in,” Yang said, a look of cold determination settling on her face.

“What?! No, I can’t. No, please.”

“Blake, we need to come back. Right?”

Blake nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak. Knowing where this was going, and that it was entirely her fault.

“Then I need to win. So. Put. it. Back. In,” Yang said, leaning close and showing that the fire in her eyes was far from extinguished.

“I’ve never, I don’t-” Blake stammered, feeling helpless.

“Stop. Have you at least seen it done?” Yang asked, trying to calm her panicking friend.

“Once, a long time ago,” Blake said distantly, thinking of a time a night had gone sideways, and a friend had taken a nasty spill while running from the cops. She tried not to remember the man who had set it back in place, just how he had done it. Blake breathed, dismissing the memory and reaching out for Yang’s arm. “Ok, ready?” she asked shakily, looking up into those hard, beautiful eyes.

“Do it,” came the response, the eyes closing tight.

“On three. One...two...” but Yang had seen the trick before, and tensed on two, anticipating the sudden movement that was supposed to catch her off guard. Blake, cursing those damn fighter’s reflexes, reached for the first backup plan she could. “Three,” she said, slinging one hand around the back of the blonde’s head and pulling her in for a kiss.

The immediate reaction was for Yang to tense up further, but as the kiss deepened she relaxed into it, just for a moment, before a sudden jerk followed by a grinding sensation lit up every pain receptor in her shoulder.

“Wow, fuck!” she hissed through gritted teeth, standing back up as Blake released her. “It didn’t really feel like anything while it was out but that hurts like a sonofabitch now. Side note: what the actual fuck?”

Blake blushed furiously, “I’m sorry, it was all I could think of. That wasn’t, exactly, how I pictured our first kiss.”

“Let’s just put a pin in the fact you pictured our first kiss, we’ll get back to that later. Also, I’m only slightly mad since it worked like a charm,” Yang said, covering her pain with sarcasm. Blake watched as she subtly rolled the shoulder, testing its range of motion and strength.

“Can you keep fighting?”

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Yang paused, grimacing and lowering her voice, “I probably have one or two rounds in me. I can feel it swelling and stiffening already. Even adrenaline will only hold it off so long.”

One of the men ringside was yelling for Blake to get out of the ring, the break almost over.

“Be careful, Yang.”

“No promises.”

\--

Much to the frustration of the challenger the fourth round was an exercise in futility. Despite not being able to make much use of the shoulder he had separated, the Dragon still had plenty of stamina. She used this, along with her legs and single fully functional arm to keep him at bay the entire time. Neither fighter was able to truly hurt the other, though the plucky blonde did surprise him at the end of the round with a solid straight right that seemed to hurt her almost as much as him. It was retracted just before he could trap it and both fighters were stopped shortly after by the bell, neither looking particularly pleased as they walked away from one another.

“That was risky Yang,” Blake said.

“Yeah I know, but if I don’t take risks now he’s going to get me eventually,” she replied grimly.

“Fair enough, but he’s waiting to catch your right again.” As soon as she said it an awful idea occurred to Blake and she averted her eyes, hoping that she hadn’t given herself away.

But Yang didn’t miss her look. “You just figured something out, what is it?” she asked curtly.

“No, it’s a terrible idea. If it doesn’t work you’re beyond screwed.”

“Well, I’m already screwed, and I don’t have any ideas so at this point a terrible idea is a significant improvement,” she as she looked at the ticking clock indicating the break winding down. “Now or never Blake.”

“Let him catch your right.”

“Excuse me?!”

“He wants your right arm, bad, he was almost salivating when you threw it at the end. Let him have it. Then, well, let him have it,” Blake said, guilt filling her as each word left her mouth.

Yang paused, seeing the potential sequence in her mind. “This could end pretty bad for me if I fuck it up.”

“It could.”

“Any other ideas?”

Blake wished more than anything that she could say yes. “None,” she admitted.

“Cool. Well, you might want to call an ambulance and have it on standby, because someone is going to need it.” 

Then the bell was sounding and Yang walked away while Blake was left to wonder how she could forgive herself even if her plan worked.

It didn’t take long for Yang to confirm that Cobra was indeed hunting for her right. Even half-hearted feints drew him in, ready to grab and rend. Not wanting to draw things out any further Yang set her trap, not entirely sure which of them was going to be caught in it.

She threw her right with everything she had despite the pain and it was caught exactly as she had expected. Not interested in getting tossed to the ground she stepped out and away, bracing and letting him pull himself in behind her as he had before. The look on his face as he did so was vile, his tongue practically lolling as he moved in. Right as he set up to repeat his earlier performance Yang sprung into action, taking a hop step out towards her extended hand, bending her elbow and then extending her arm immediately, punching at the air. The sudden thrusting movement pulled her attacker off balance and put his head slightly above and beyond her right shoulder just in time to see her spinning towards him in what seemed an impossible maneuver. As the force of his fall reseparated her shoulder she used the added mobility to drive her left hand straight into his broken nose. Vision gone white by the pain of the strike, as well as his head hitting the ground, he began reaching around blindly to re-establish his hold, but before he could he was kicked fiercely, again in the nose, sprawling him on his back. As he struggled to regain his feet his arms were pinned down by what he assumed were the girl’s knees, and then all he felt were a rain of punches until he felt nothing at all.

Yang rose, covered in blood that wasn’t hers, one arm hanging loosely, and let out an animalistic roar of pain and victory and challenge that brought the momentarily stunned crowd to their feet. Roman entered cautiously, not interested in provoking the grisly specter before him, and motioned for someone to check to see if King Cobra was still breathing. After getting the verdict he made his proclamation, “The winner, by way of knockout, and still undefeated champion: the Dragon!”

Yang was in no mood to have either hand held aloft and walked past him without the barest hint of acknowledgment. This didn’t bother the crowd, which was still busy screaming and shouting about the insanity of the ending, but Roman noted the snub with a dark glower.

Blake reached for Yang as she awkwardly stepped down from the ring but was quickly shaken off. The Dragon had a reputation to maintain, and looking weak now was just going to be more blood in the water. The two women walked back to the locker room stone-faced, the fighter’s limp arm making her mien that much more terrible. Shortly before reaching their temporary sanctuary, someone amidst the blur of a crowd managed to catch Blake’s eye. Turning to look she saw the fox faunus from earlier give her a single nod before fading back into the throng. It gave her a modicum of relief knowing at least it hadn't all been for nothing, but that was cold comfort when she looked back at the injured fighter in front of her.

Once back in the champion’s room their stoic faces cracked, but in wildly different ways. Blake couldn’t hold back her tears, crying and apologizing for setting her up to get injured again and trying to be helpful but still afraid to make it worse. She only paused her lamentations when she saw that Yang was laughing.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked incredulously. But the look on her face just drove Yang into further hysterics, until even Blake felt the edge of her mouth twitch up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m laughing,” Yang said while gasping for air. “That was just so awful you know, and now everything’s fine, well except for how floppy this is,” she said, wiggling the arm in question. “I just can’t believe we pulled that off.” Blake saw she also had tears in her eyes, but whether from mirth or relief or pain neither could say.

“We? Pretty sure you’re the one who dislocated, excuse me, re-dislocated your shoulder to punch a guy in the face.”

This elicited another giggle from Yang, which Blake was starting to realize was likely a sign of shock. “Yeah, fuck, I did. Didn’t, I? It was your idea though.”

“Yeah well, I’d rather not take credit for that. Also, you’re really pale,” she said leaning in and resting her hand against her friend’s sweaty forehead. “And clammy. We really should get you to the hospital.”

“You know, I’m not going to argue with you there, but we should probably clean up this blood first. I don’t want to have to answer any more questions than absolutely necessary, you know?” Yang said, finally managing to stifle her laughter.

Blake set to work with what few supplies she had. Fortunately, she was able to get all of the blood off with the alcohol wipes that she found buried in the small medical kit but there was nothing she could do about her top where it had already stained. Seeing her look of consternation Yang shook her head. “I won’t be able to get it over my shoulder anyway, so no need to clean it. Just cut it off,” she said, laughing as Blake’s face went crimson. “From the back, you dork. Then hand me my tank top.”

Blake did as she was told, before turning around and making a careful study of the grimy wall behind them as Yang struggled but ultimately succeeded in getting her shirt on. After that she threw her loose hoodie over her head, leaving her right sleeve to hang empty. “Ok, I’m decent,” she joked, reaching to pick up the rest of her things.

“Here, let me,” Blake said, scrambling to be useful. When she had everything bundled she pointed to the door. “Hospital, now,” she insisted sharply.

“Yes ma’am,” Yang said with a mocking left-handed salute. “I kind of like it when you're feisty.”

\--

Fortunately, the doctor on shift was sleep-deprived enough to not ask too many questions, accepting Yang’s story of slipping and falling down some stairs at face value. After she was sufficiently drugged up she had her arm reset for the second time that evening (“didn’t even get a kiss this time, that’s some bullshit,” she said, her words noticeably slurring) and was sent for a quick scan where the doctor determined that she had been quite lucky.

“No permanent damage that I can see, you’re a fit girl so the muscles held everything together well enough that the tearing is minor. It should heal completely with rest,” he said, yawning. He then fit Yang with a sling and told her to wear it for a few days and generally take it easy for a few weeks. When she proved to be a bit too out of it from the pain medication he looked at Blake to make sure one of them had been paying attention, which of course she had. Having done what he could he sent the pair on their way, Yang humming a tune of her own creation and weaving prodigiously down the sidewalk.

Blake somehow navigated her extremely high friend onto the subway and eventually back to her place. They skipped the storage locker altogether as that seemed far too much effort given the situation and Blake made a mental note to retrieve its contents at some point later in the week. In the meantime she dropped the gym bag in her apartment while Yang waited in the lobby, staring out the window in silent fascination.

“Blake, Blaaaaake. Have you seen this?” she slurred, pointing at the empty street beyond and looking up at her returning friend.

“Sure have champ, it’s called the outside.”

“I want to go to there,” Yang said as though spying the promised land through the smudged glass.

“Well you’re in luck, that’s just where we’re going,” Blake said, gently guiding her to the exit.

“See? That’s why you’re the best.”

Blake wasn’t sure how much was the drugs and how much was Yang enjoying the excuse to be ridiculous, but she towed her along gently by her good arm outside to her car. After going through the difficult exercise of figuring out how to buckle her in without hurting her shoulder and receiving no cooperation whatsoever Blake got them both strapped in. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she started the drive to Yang’s place, hoping against hope that her roommates were asleep.

Luck was on her side that night, as the apartment was dark and silent when they arrived. Constantly shushing Yang, Blake dug through the tiny yet surprisingly full purse Yang was carrying, pausing when she came across a pair of familiar brass knuckles. Shaking her head she continued rummaging, eventually managing to locate a key ring. After going through every key twice, much to the delight of the rapidly sobering though still dazed Yang, she got them inside.

“Think you can manage the stairs?” Blake whispered.

Yang nodded slowly, rubbing circles in her eyelids and making her way slowly, stopping every second or third step as she swayed a bit. When they finally reached her room she looked at her bed miserably. “Aw man, I can’t get in bed like this, I reek,” she pouted.

“For the record, not giving you a bath,” Blake responded in a whisper.

Yang stifled a giggle, “Gods, you’re no fun. Just wait here, I’ll manage.”

Blake thought it might be better if she left before she was discovered, but concern tipped the balance. She decided to stay until she saw to it that her charge made it safely to bed, then she could sneak out, no one the wiser. Yang stumbled out, grumbling something about making herself at home, and then Blake heard the door to the bathroom shut and the shower start.

The last time she had been in Yang's room she had been too nervous to pay much attention to its contents, and this time she found herself gripped with curiosity. Looking around, she was amazed but not surprised at the sheer volume of pictures on every surface. Most were of Ruby and Weiss, with many of Pyrrha and some of the others from that first dinner. Feeling like an anthropologist at a fresh dig site she moved from picture to picture, seeing Yang and her friends in locations ranging from their college quad to hikes through forests and even one of white water rafting, where someone on another boat had managed to capture an image of Yang with the biggest smile as a wave nearly capsized her group’s boat. Typical.

In one corner of a cork board above her desk, she found older pictures, slightly faded, showing the two sisters when they were much younger. A few also included a broad-shouldered, tow-headed man who was clearly the girls’ father. Spotting an absence she scanned the photos again, but it was always just the three of them. It was only upon looking at an oddly placed picture of Ruby in a white coat for the third time that she saw the jacket in the picture had a name tag that read ‘Dr. Rose’. Blake knew about the differing names of the two sisters but it wasn’t until the last viewing she realized the significance of the title. Ruby didn’t have her M.D., she just happened to look exactly like their mother.

“Should’ve known better than to leave a reporter alone in my room,” Yang said from over her shoulder, a little more clear-headed after her shower but speaking slowly, as though she were almost asleep.

“Sorry, I guess I got curious. You look so much like your dad, and Ruby looks exactly like your mom,” she said, pointing at the picture she had been examining.

Yang nodded slowly, the look in her eyes so sad it broke Blake’s heart. “Ruby looks just like her mom, no question.”

As the pieces of what had been said came together for Blake she felt a surge of guilt at gleaning information from Yang while she was not quite in her right mind. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I think I’ll just go now that you seem to be feeling better,” she mumbled, wanting to extricate herself before making things worse.

Seeing her rising panic Yang reached out and took her hand, “Blake, you don’t always need to apologize for everything. Also, will you stay?”

“No, I couldn’t, and I shouldn’t. You’re still, you need to rest and it’s late-”

“Blake, I’m not asking you to sleep with me. Just stay. Please.” Yang said softly, releasing her hand. Gingerly, she lowered herself into the bed and curled into a ball, careful of her bound arm. “I tried not to show it, especially at the fight, but tonight,” she paused and sniffed quickly as she tried to wipe away the tears before they could fully form. “It just kind of freaked me out, you know? I mean I’ve been hurt before but I just felt so helpless. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would have done. So, please, just stay? At least until I fall asleep.”

Blake looked down at her, startled to see the mighty warrior so exposed, so vulnerable. She suspected it wasn’t something she let many see, and she was so overcome by the desire to protect her at that moment that simply staying seemed like the least she could do. “Of course, Yang. I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” she said quietly.

“Thank you.”

Blake draped her jacket across the back of the desk chair and turned out the lamp. Nimbly she climbed over Yang so she wouldn’t have to move and laid down beside her, tucking herself under the covers and staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t until she felt the shudder pass through the form next to her that she realized Yang was crying silently, and without letting herself overthink it Blake rolled over against her and gently held her until her breathing slowed and took on a more even rhythm. Blake was so sure she had finally been overtaken by sleep that she jumped slightly when she heard Yang speak.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember when you kissed me?”

Blake shook with muted laughter at both Yang’s tone and her own brash action. “Yes, I seem to recall that.”

“It was right before you shoved my arm back in the socket.”

“I recall that as well.”

“We should do that again, just you know, without the arm part.”

Blake smiled to herself and nuzzled into the fragrant blonde hair in front of her. Before she could respond she felt Yang’s breath slow considerably as she fell into a deep sleep. For a moment Blake considered getting up and leaving. But the thought of the drive and her cold, empty apartment seemed so unappealing when she was currently bathed in radiant warmth and being lulled by the steady beat of Yang’s heart under her hand. She decided to just enjoy it for fifteen minutes; then she would get up and head home.

She was fast asleep in less than five.


	11. Cross Examinations

For the first time in years, Blake slept through the entire night, undisturbed by dark dreams. She stirred briefly when the soothing presence next to her got up, but only long enough to shift over into the warm space left behind. Sometime later she was roused by loud voices from downstairs, one of which sounded quite angry. As she regained consciousness she heard Yang stomping up the stairs, calling back “Weiss, I’m fine, relax!”

A moment later a tousled blonde head poked in and turned toward the bed. Yang smiled as she saw two cracked eyes peeping out from just above the edge of the covers. “Morning sleepyhead,” she said, stepping in and closing the door behind her. “How did you sleep?”

“Really well, actually,” Blake responded, stretching overhead and failing to stifle a yawn.

“Good, I’m glad,” Yang said, smiling fondly at her as she sat on the edge of the bed. “And thank you. For staying. It meant a lot.”

“Of course, it was the least I could do,” Blake replied, basking in the glow of that smile and disappointed to see it fade. “Something wrong?”

“No, not really. Weiss is less than pleased at my...” she said, pausing to look down at her shoulder. “condition. So she’s kind of in a mood. Also, your car is in the driveway so I can’t exactly sneak you out. Sorry,” she added, wincing guiltily.

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” she said, not at all convinced it would be, “I just need to make myself presentable before I go down.”

“Of course. I found a new toothbrush in the cabinet you can use and left it on the sink, and I’ve got a kettle on so you can make some tea when you’re ready.”

“You’re a gem. How does your shoulder feel?”

Yang got up with a humorless laugh. “Like it got ripped out of the socket. Twice.” Before Blake could apologize yet again she waved her off, “I’m going to head back downstairs, come down when you’re ready.”

When she was gone Blake staggered sleepily to the bathroom, then bolted back to the bedroom to find her misplaced bow. A few minutes later she descended the stairs, intentionally making enough noise that the girls would know she was coming. Conversation slowed as she walked into the kitchen looking appropriately sheepish, but restarted when Ruby greeted her cheerfully.

“Morning Blake!” she said, her voice heavy with teasing implication. “Sleep well?”

“Mostly,” she said, not needing to pretend to blush. “Yang is a bit of a snorer though.”

Ruby cackled at this as Yang tried and failed to protest. Meanwhile, Weiss regarded all of them through narrowed eyes, clearly not amused. Blake decided she needed a cup of tea before she could puzzle that out so she went looking for a mug, remembering where they were located on the third try. Selecting an interesting-looking green tea from their selection she poured herself some water from the whistling kettle and sat down at the table, trying to be inconspicuous. Looking up from her steaming mug revealed she had failed miserably at this, as it seemed that all three sets of eyes in the room were focused squarely on her.

“Thanks for taking care of Yang last night,” Ruby said through a mouthful of toast. “I can’t believe she ate it so hard she dislocated her arm.”

Blake smiled at the trusting nature of the girl happily munching away across from her, so different from her obviously suspicious roommate. “Yeah, it seemed like the thing to do,” she said nonchalantly.

“I’m just bummed I wasn’t there, I would have loved to look at the scans!” Ruby exclaimed.

“You’re just mad I didn’t let you poke at it,” Yang said, setting down her cup of coffee and easing herself into her chair. Ruby immediately switched from medical intrigue to sisterly concern when she saw her obvious discomfort, but Yang waved her off. “I’m fine, just a little sore is all.”

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you fall. You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head,” Weiss said, finally joining in but with a frosty tone that was at odds with the light-hearted chatter of the others. “What exactly did you slip on, anyway?”

“Probably my own two feet,” Yang said with a laugh. “I wasn’t exactly what you would call sober at that point.”

“But Blake was?”

“Excuse me?” Yang asked, caught completely off guard by the question.

“Blake was sober. She must have been since she drove you home,” Weiss expanded, certain she had found the weak spot in their story.

Yang hesitated, trying to find the best way to thread the needle without ruining the flow of the story, and was rescued by Blake. “I had a few, but not nearly as many as Yang. I sobered up while we waited around at the hospital. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have driven otherwise,” she said as she sipped at her tea innocently.

Weiss appraised both of them silently, doubt emanating from her cold eyes.

“Don’t mind Weiss,” Ruby said conspiratorially to Blake, “she can’t help but cross-examine everyone like they’re on the witness stand.”

“I’m not a lawyer yet and I’m not even going into trial law,” Weiss harrumphed in reply, but let the matter drop.

The rest of breakfast passed peacefully enough, largely filled with the bouncing banter of the two sisters. Eventually, Yang consented to Ruby examining her shoulder, so long as she was careful, and she started loosening her sling. Weiss, seeing an opportunity she had obviously been waiting for looked up at Blake.

“Won’t you join me in the living room? It’s too early for me to hear medical terminology,” she said, her expression intentionally neutral.

“Sure, yeah, why not?” Blake responded nervously, sensing a trap but knowing that the only option was to walk right into it.

She followed the white-haired woman to the living room, just removed enough from the kitchen that Ruby’s recitations of all of the ligaments in Yang’s shoulder fell to below the level of intelligibility. They walked to the window, standing side by side and looking at the leaf-strewn street. Blake kept one eye on the silent woman next to her, nervous of what her inscrutable expression was hiding.

“I know you’re lying,” she said.

The directness of the statement hit Blake with surprising force. Before she could respond Weiss continued.

“I’m not accusing you, I’m simply stating a fact. I don’t know where you actually were because Yang has decided not to share that particular piece of her life with anyone. Anyone except you.” The slight woman turned away from the street, meeting Blake’s eyes and lowering her voice but somehow increasing its intensity, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hurt, both for myself and Ruby, but I’m doing my best not to hold it against you.”

“Weiss I-” Blake began before she was cut off by a sharp gesture from Weiss.

“Please, do not interrupt me; I’m not interested in hearing more fabrications. I’m not sure exactly why Yang let you in so quickly and completely, but she is one of my closest friends and I trust her judgment. That said-”

But Blake was losing patience with the scolding she was enduring. She knew she was somewhat new on the scene, but something about that famously pompous Schnee tone was too much for her to ignore. “I’m sorry. Is this the part where you say if I hurt your friend you’ll hurt me?” she snapped, crossing her arms and making use of her height advantage to look down at Weiss, who simply shook her head sadly.

“No, Blake, it’s not,” she said, her tone strangely soft. “No decent person needs to be told not to hurt those they care about, and I do not doubt that you are a decent person. Just as I do not doubt that you care about Yang. Besides, threats are crass and not really my style.” Blake was taken aback as this curious woman reached out and laid a conciliatory hand on her arm. “As I said, I don’t know where she, where both of you, go. But I’ve long suspected it’s dangerous and this morning has proven me right. So no, I’m not threatening you, but I’m also not making a request. I need you to be there where none of us can. I need you to take care of her.” She held Blake’s gaze for a moment longer, her icy blue eyes boring into gold. Feeling the matter settled she nodded curtly and let her hand fall away.

Realizing that no response was necessary or sufficient Blake simply nodded in compliance. Again she had completely misjudged Weiss, and again she had been thoroughly put in her place. They walked back to the kitchen in a weighty silence to find Yang swatting at Ruby for trying to test the limits of her very tender shoulder, both of the girls laughing uproariously. Stopping at the threshold Weiss sighed contentedly and murmured such that only Blake could hear, “You see them? They’re my family Blake. For better or worse. They’re it.” With that she strode in, adding her voice to the noisy chorus, and as Blake listened she heard them form a lovely harmony.

\--

A short time later Weiss checked her watch and sighed. Complaining about her unreasonable course load she rose and left the kitchen to pack. On her way out the door, she declared she’d hopefully be back by dinner but not to wait for her, and then the door was shut firmly behind her. Realizing how close to midday it was Ruby decided to try to take a nap before her night shift and trudged up the stairs, and suddenly Blake and Yang were alone.

“I, uh, I should probably go,” Blake said awkwardly, feeling she had vastly overstayed her welcome.

“Oh, yeah, ok,” Yang said, obviously crestfallen.

“It’s just, I have work to do.”

“Yeah, no, of course.”

“And I could probably stand to change my clothes.”

“There is that.”

“I had a really nice time though,” Blake said awkwardly, feeling that the words weren’t even in the right zip code of what she was trying to say.

“Heh, me too, all things considered,” Yang laughed, pointing at her sling. “Come on, let’s go get your things.”

They walked quietly up the stairs, pretending to be considerate of Ruby but in reality each just afraid to ask after the other’s thoughts. When they reached the room Blake quickly grabbed her things and turned to leave. Before she could she was stopped by Yang holding up a finger before turning back to close the door to stop their voices from carrying.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be right at this moment, but I really would like to talk about last night. When you’re ready,” Yang said gently.

“Which part? The part where we kissed or the part where I showed you…” Blake began, looking around hesitantly, “Where I took off my bow?”

Yang smiled and shrugged. “Either, both.”

Blake took a step closer, closing the distance between them and setting her things back down on the bed. “I know we need to talk about this,” she said, pointing to the top of her head. “But I really don’t feel like I can do it here. I promise we will though. Soon.” She tried not to feel guilty about the modifier, knowing she owed more than vague promises of someday but knowing she couldn’t offer anything more.

“Ok, I can live with ‘soon’,” Yang said, doing an admirable job of hiding her disappointment.

“As for the other thing,” Blake said, taking another step. “I guess my only question is this: can I kiss you again? I promise, this time no blinding agony.”

“I would like that,” Yang replied, smiling shyly. Before she could blink Blake was face to face with her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of her breath. In. Hold. Out slowly. In again.

And then there was no distance between them at all, if only for a moment. The kiss wasn’t long or aggressive. It wasn’t full of untapped lust and passion, though it certainly wasn’t chaste. It was brief and gentle and full of questions and possibilities. It was, for that place and that time and those involved, perfect.

They parted slowly, Blake enjoying the way Yang’s eyes stayed closed just a moment longer, as if savoring the kiss, memorizing it. She reached up and put a hand on her lovely face. “I really should go. Let’s continue this ‘conversation’ soon.”

Yang pouted playfully but nodded. “I’ll walk you out.”


	12. A Brief Interlude

**Yang**

> _I think we may have a problem._
> 
> _That’s ominous. Does it have anything to do with one of us not knowing about the three-day rule?_
> 
> _It’s been what, 6 hours since I’ve been in your bed? Honestly, zero chill.  
>  _
> 
> _Oh, the girl’s got jokes now? I’ll admit, I laughed even though we’re totally fucked._
> 
> _Sorry, what’s up?_
> 
> _Got my next date._
> 
> _And?_
> 
> _Next Saturday._
> 
> _WHAT?!_
> 
> _Yup, we’re fucked. Well, I’m fucked, and by extension, so are you._

Blake closed her eyes, mind racing as she absorbed the news. After the last gap she had assumed Yang would have plenty of time to heal, but they were throwing her back in the ring so soon, and after what they had seen.

> _Think it’s on purpose?_
> 
> _Definitely, they’ve been sick of me for a while. They know I’m weak, so this is a perfect time to unseat me._
> 
> _Fuck. Yang, you can’t actually be considering going through with this._
> 
> _Of course I am._
> 
> _That said, whatever you’re going to do, try to get it done this week. I’m not 100% sure I’ll be able to perform well enough to get us back in again._
> 
> _I will, I promise I’ll get what I need and then you won’t even have to go in there. We can just go home._
> 
> _That’s a nice thought, but just in case, I’m not going to count on it._
> 
> _Sorry, this wasn’t exactly what I was planning on texting you about tonight, but such is life._
> 
> _No need to apologize, you know I’m always in your corner.  
>  _
> 
> _Can’t think of anyone better!_

Blake set her scroll down and paced around her apartment in frustration, fending off feelings of helplessness by trying to focus on how she was going to make the most of what was potentially her last shot at her only lead. After two circuits the room began to feel like a cage and her ideas became wild with desperation. She stopped and tried to steady herself with a cleansing breath but there just wasn’t enough air. No longer able to tolerate the four walls around her she grabbed her jacket, shoved her feet in her boots, and practically fled down the stairs, only stopping once she could see the sky, red with the setting sun. She inhaled deeply, shocked into clarity by the biting feeling of the cold air in her lungs and its hints of the coming winter, and set off at a brisk walk.

Thinking some music or maybe soothing sounds of home might help she reached into her pocket and grabbed one of her headphones, stopping in her tracks as she looked at the little device. The core of an idea was forming, slowly coalescing into what Blake sincerely hoped was a plan. She pulled out her scroll, hating that she would need Yang for this part too, but there was no helping it.

> _I think I have an idea._
> 
> _Oh?_
> 
> _Yeah, but I may need your help._
> 
> _You know I’m in._
> 
> _Of course you are._

They made plans to meet the next day and Blake continued her walk, watching the sun set over the city as sounds of a faraway beach played in her ears.

\--

Blake waited nervously in the cafe where they had planned their first covert outing, but inside this time to escape the chill that was threatening to settle into her bones. After jerking her head towards the door three times upon hearing its cheery bell ring the fourth finally yielded the one she sought. Her heart simultaneously lifted at the golden smile and plummeted as she saw the right sleeve of her leather jacket hanging loosely, arm still held close by a sling. She tried to calm her nerves as the jaunty blonde walked in, reminding herself that if all went according to plan she may not need to fight at all. Yang came to join her after placing her order, deftly swinging her jacket off and hanging it on a nearby hook left-handed.

“How many times did you practice making that look cool?” Blake deadpanned, trying not to seem impressed.

“Only about fifteen or so. I nailed it, right?” Yang said breezily as she took a seat. “So, what’s this super-secret plan?”

“We can get to that in a minute. Yang, are you sure you’re ok? What if Saturday you actually have to...” Blake looked around, satisfied that no one was listening but lowering her voice regardless, “you know, fight? I don’t want you to get hurt. Again.”

“Blake, I appreciate your concern, but I signed up for this long before you came around and I knew the risks then. I’ll be fine. I messaged some people from the gyms I train at who have had similar injuries. They gave me some tips on getting it back to some level of functionality and I’m working on it. I promise I’ll be ready come Saturday.” Yang looked up cheerily as the barista delivered her coffee, accepting it with her good hand, the conversation fizzling until the girl had walked back to the counter and out of earshot.

Yang’s confidence was infectious and Blake found her fears reasonably mollified, so she decided to get down to business. “Ok, well hopefully you won’t need to fight at all,” she began. “I never told you but the guy, from the other night? He nodded to me as we were walking away from the ring. I’m pretty sure that I’ll get an invite this Saturday.”

“I still can’t say I’m exactly thrilled about this, but good, I guess,” Yang said grimly.

“I know, it’s not ideal, but it’s something. It won’t be enough for me to go in and listen though, I need to record whatever’s going on.” 

“How? Scrolls aren’t technically banned in the venue but I don’t think people are exactly encouraged to record,” Yang replied, tripping on her words slightly as she tried to keep her terms vague enough for their present surroundings.

“You can say that again. On the first night I was there I saw a guy get tossed by a bouncer for answering a call. That’s why I need your help. Technically, that’s why I need Ren’s help,” Blake admitted guiltily.

“You want a tiny microphone.”

“And, camera, if possible. Oh and it needs to be wireless,” she said with a wince, feeling bad at asking for so much.

“Sure, should we throw in a watch that shoots lasers?” Yang said, laughing at Blake’s consternation. “I’m joking, all of those things should be very possible. If it were anyone else I would worry that he would need time, but I bet Ren already has something like that kicking around on his workbench somewhere. I’ll just ask to borrow it.”

“You’re not going to tell him what it’s for, are you?” Blake asked nervously.

“Chill, of course not. I’ll just tell him it’s for pranking Ruby, I’ve requested weirder shit for that very purpose.”

Blake sat back, feeling the first time in months like she was actually getting somewhere. After leaving Vacuo on a hunchbacked by flimsy evidence it seemed she was finally going to be vindicated. In that moment of relief, she found herself entirely present, a rare occurrence in her life, and the sounds and smells of the little cafe with its patrons made her feel overwhelmingly normal. Then all of those things faded away as her eyes fell back on the beautiful woman across from her, who had been observing her the entire time. Blake felt her cheeks redden but didn’t look away, allowing the moment to linger.

She was so entranced that she didn’t quite hear Yang's joke the first time, but after it was repeated with a smirk she found herself laughing and then falling into an easy conversation about everything and nothing. No planning, no discussing risks to life and limb; just two people finding a rhythm together, tuning their internal frequencies until they found resonance.

Eventually, the conversation lulled and Yang looked at her scroll to check the time. “Oops, I should go, I told Pyrrha to pick me up ten minutes ago and she’s probably waiting.”

Blake laughed at how not sorry she looked. “You made Pyrrha drive you? What did you tell her to get her to do that?”

Yang smiled, swinging her jacked on with as much aplomb as she had removed it. “It’s Pyrrha, all anyone has to do to get a favor from her is say ‘please’. Also, it helped that I told her I was going on a date.”

“Oh, this was a date? I hadn’t realized,” Blake snarked, also standing to leave.

“Sure was, I decided.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you.”

“Was I wrong?”

“I didn’t say that,” Blake said thoughtfully, raising herself up on her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on Yang’s cheek as she walked past and led the way to the door. She looked over her shoulder and smiled when she saw her companion frozen in place. Finally collecting her shattered composure Yang followed her, the look in her eyes only slightly dreamy and unfocused.

Outside they found Pyrrha parked across the street, idly flicking through her scroll and looking far from perturbed by the wait. Eventually catching sight of them she waved in greeting, a friendly smile on her face, and started the car.

“I really shouldn’t abuse the fact that she would probably wait for hours without complaining,” Yang said as she waved back.

“No, you really shouldn’t. That’s ok, I need to get back to work anyway. We’ll talk later,” Blake said, squeezing Yang’s good hand before walking down the street toward her own car. The smitten blonde watched her walk for a moment before making her way over to the idling vehicle. As she got in she laughed as Pyrrha didn’t even try to hide her own excitement, immediately wrapping her in a big sideways hug as soon as she sat down. “I knew I had a feeling about you two, I could just tell. Ugh, tell me everything!” she exclaimed as she pulled onto the road.

Yang couldn’t help but laugh at the honest delight as well as at her own happiness. “We just had coffee Pyrrha,” she said, rolling her eyes and adding in a mocking whisper, “Well, if you must know, Blake actually had tea.”

“Tea? Ooh, scandalous,” Pyrrha said, playing along. “Seriously though, how was it?”

For a moment Yang just looked out the window, watching the city give way to the forest lane that led up to the university and thinking about the feeling of the last hour or so more than the specific contents.

“It was perfect,” she remarked, mostly to herself.

\--

**Yang**

> _I’ve got that gadget you were asking about. Turns out Ren had one mostly working already._
> 
> _Naturally._
> 
> _I told you before, dude’s a wizard. I can come drop it off whenever._
> 
> _I’d love to do it soon but turns out I have to do my actual job so I don’t end up unemployed._
> 
> _Ugh, jobs, the worst._
> 
> _Right? I should be free by Thursday evening though, that work?_
> 
> _Perfect._

\--

Thursday evening came and with it a chirp from Blake’s intercom. She practically skipped over to the box to buzz her visitor in and then took a few deep breaths to calm her suddenly racing heart. A few moments later a knock told her that Yang had reached her door, and as she began to open it a small voice of caution from her past made her realize she had never actually confirmed the identity of the person on the other side of the door.

“What’s wrong?” Yang asked, concern replacing anticipation as she saw the wide golden eyes that greeted her.

It was Yang. _Of course_ , Blake thought as she tried to banish her fears and play it off with a laugh, “Nothing, sorry, I was thinking about something else and you startled me. Come in.” She wasn’t sure what had brought the hard face that often tormented her dreams to mind so suddenly, but her fear that it might have been him at her doorstep instead had been overwhelming.

“I’m going to make some tea,” she called over her shoulder in what she hoped was a chipper tone, using the time to collect herself. “Want some?”

“Sure,” Yang said slowly, watching the obviously perturbed woman fuss with the cabinets. “Thanks.”

Once the kettle was filled and on the stove Blake turned, the panic gone from her face but still in the process of draining from the rest of her body. “Sorry, just a little on edge I guess,” she said, walking over to her small table where Yang was already seated. “No sling today? How’s the arm?”

Yang smiled and rolled her shoulder slowly, “I’d be lying if I said good, but I’ve been working it through mobility exercises for a few days and it’s certainly better. At least the jostling from running didn’t hurt that bad today.” Blake winced at the thought of something as casual as running causing her pain, but Yang just shrugged it off. “I’ll do some gentle bag work tomorrow, test its limits, and figure out how to protect it. All in all, it’s about as good as could be expected.”

“Wait, you didn’t ride your motorcycle over here did you?”

“No, don’t worry, I’m not that irresponsible. I dropped Ruby at the hospital so I could borrow her car,” Yang said placatingly. “Anyway, wait until you see this.”

With that, she reached stiffly into her pocket and pulled out what looked like a small black bead, no bigger than a pea, and set it on the table between them. Blake reached out and picked up the tiny camera in disbelief, turning it over until she was able to barely make out which side must be the lens.

“Ren really is a wizard,” she said in genuine awe.

“He sure is. Said it should take decent quality video and audio and maintain a link over a distance of about 50 feet. The recording is done on your scroll so the only limit is battery life. He figures under ideal conditions it should have about an hour per charge.”

Blake whistled in appreciation of the little technical marvel and Yang set about showing her how to sync it with her scroll. They finished just as the kettle began to whistle insistently and Blake got up to pour them some herbal tea, very much aware of the two lilac eyes following her every movement fondly.

She returned to the table and they sat silently as they waited for their drinks to cool. Used to the many forms of silence, Blake was amazed at how full this one felt. It wasn’t tense or strained, but neither was it empty like the silence of being alone. It was the silence of contentment that people feel when sitting in front of a warm fire, finally home after a long day out in the cold.

“Thinking deep thoughts?” Yang asked, sipping from her mug, her eyes smiling over the rim.

“Maybe,” Blake replied coyly, deflecting somewhat to avoid trying to describe the image in her mind aloud. Not that it mattered, the soft look directed at her spoke of understanding. It was almost terrifying to feel so seen, so known, but Blake found her soul grasping for the feeling like a parched woman in a desert spotting an oasis; praying it was more than a mirage. She hadn’t even known that unmet need had existed in her, but now it demanded satisfaction. So strong was the feeling that she almost broke down and told Yang everything, in gory detail, right then. Meanwhile, her fears, of rejection, of hurt, of dragging this wonderful woman into a mess she didn’t deserve, acted in opposition and demanded silence. Somewhere between those two extremes ran a narrow path, barely the width of a knife’s edge, and Blake resigned herself to walking it.

“We should probably talk,” she said, fighting not to physically withdraw.

Yang could sense the shape of the internal struggle going on across from her and the last thing she wanted to do was make it worse. Of course, she was brimming with questions, but she knew that any one of them could encroach on sensitive territory, and she refused to push Blake that way. She suspected there was a great deal that was being withheld but had vowed to herself to let it all come to light as it would, sure that whatever it was couldn’t possibly change her feelings for the mysterious and magical woman. “Blake,” she said finally, “We don’t have to if you’re not ready.” 

“I can’t tell you how much it means to hear that,” Blake began, collecting her thoughts and figuring out what part of the truth she could share. “And honestly I’m not ready to talk about everything, but I do want to talk about it. If nothing else I want to make sure you aren’t upset. I really am sorry for lying to you.”

“I mean technically you never told me you weren’t a faunus.”

A smile fought for purchase on Blake’s otherwise somber face. “Yang, be serious.”

“Ok, sorry, just trying to lighten the mood,” Yang said, wincing as she reached up to run her right hand through her hair. “Yeah, I was surprised. I mean I know a generation ago it was common for faunus who could pass as human to do that, but that’s pretty rare now, especially in Vale. Still, I assume you have a good reason.”

“I do,” Blake assured her.

“Does it have to do with whoever it was that made you feel unsafe? Before, I mean,” Yang ventured, every word spoken as though she feared it would set off an entire minefield.

“I…” Blake floundered.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have...I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s ok,” she said, finding her balance again. “You just caught me off guard; I’m not used to someone listening to and remembering every little detail like that.” Yang gave her a warm half smile but said nothing, so she continued, “Yes, that’s more or less it. I fled a...bad situation several years ago. It may seem drastic but the only way for me to stay safe is to pass as human.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Yang said softly.

“I know,” Blake said with a sad smile. “I’m sorry to ask you to keep it for me, but it really is important.”

“Blake, it’s ok. I’d do anything to keep you safe,” Yang said, the fervor in her voice making both of them lapse into a self-conscious pause. Reaching for something lighter to offset the weight of her declaration she grasped at the first thing that came to mind. “Wait, how good is your hearing?”

Blake cocked her head at the non sequitur, “Good. Really really good, if I'm honest. Why?”

“That’s how you managed to overhear the passphrases to get in the first night!” Yang exclaimed. “Man, that’s been driving me nuts for ages.”

Blake laughed, grateful as always for Yang’s preternatural ability to change the subject at the perfect moment. “I mean I wasn’t lying when I said I had to sneak in as close as possible to overhear them, but yes I was much further away than most would have to be to listen in.”

“Super hearing and super stealth, you really are a ninja.”

“I also have excellent night vision,” Blake added smugly.

Yang shook her head, smirking, “So unfair.”

For a time neither spoke, both were too busy enjoying the feeling of having successfully navigated something so delicate and coming out on the other side feeling closer than ever. Blake wanted nothing more than to leave the moment untouched, but it was its very perfection that brought her mind back to the task at hand by driving home what they were risking. 

“Yang, I promise, I’m going to get what I need on Saturday. When I do, we can bail. I really don’t want to see you get hurt,” Blake said, trying to hold back her guilt and failing spectacularly.

Yang looked down at her right arm, flexing her hand experimentally. “Blake, I appreciate the thought, really. But what if you don’t? I need to be ready to not only fight but to win, just in case.”

Blake noted a look on her face that spoke of more and almost let it go, but in the end, could not. “If I do though, you’re still going to fight, aren’t you?” Yang nodded slowly, unable to meet her eyes. “But Yang, why?”

“Because I don’t know who I am if I don’t,” Yang responded, her voice just above a whisper.

All at once, Blake realized she had gotten so used to thinking about their situation from her own perspective that she had lost sight of the full picture. Yang had fought before she came around, of course, she would keep fighting when the mission was done. She wasn’t just a tool to be used, she was a person struggling with her own personal battles, and Blake felt a deep pang of shame for having forgotten that. She lurched to the other side of the table and threw her arms around the woman; the full, complete, complicated, messy woman, and mentally begged her forgiveness while outwardly offering comfort.

She knelt down, unwilling to pull back now that she was so close but unsure of what to do. Her hands finally found purchase in calloused palms, the hands of a fighter, and she looked up at eyes wrestling with swirling emotions until they rose to look back. “Yang,” Blake finally said, trying to find a way to cushion the blow of what was coming next. “No matter what happens this week. You know you can’t do this forever, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” came the hollow reply.

“Given that the people coordinating this seem kind of set on being rid of you, maybe it’s worth considering getting out before you get seriously injured?”

Yang looked away, the muscles in her neck tight as she clenched her jaw against tears that she refused to give in to, her eyes wide and wild, angry but also carrying something else. Something Blake had wrestled with often enough that she was able to pick it out where another may have missed it. The call of the void.

“Oh Yang, no. That can’t be your plan. Don’t throw your life away for this.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” she admitted. “I’m not planning on dying, Blake, but I figured eventually someone would come along and beat me.”

“Hard enough that you were permanently injured? This isn’t some ancient battlefield where you need to come home either carrying your shield or on it, Yang. Gods! You have so much life ahead of you!” Desperation drew her forward, but the sheer force of the personality across from her pushed her back, just out of reach.

“Do I? What kind of life is it if I’m always holding back? If I put myself in a cage? Given that option I’d rather be dead,” Yang practically spat, disgust at the thought mixing with disgust at herself.

“What about the people who love you?” Blake asked quietly, hoping that her words would hit their mark, breathing a sigh when it seemed they did.

“I don’t know Blake,” Yang replied, defeated. Deflated. “I just don’t know.” Finally looking up she saw the fear and concern in the woman by her side. “I’m sorry for, well, for everything. For who I am,” she said quietly.

“You never have to apologize for that. But you’re more than just the Dragon, and there are other places in the world where you can burn like the wildfire you are. I know it,” Blake said, believing every word.

“I hope you’re right, and I hope I can find those places.”

“I am, and I’ll be there to help you look.”

At this Yang leaned in and kissed her, gentle but firm, not pulling her in but not pulling back until Blake broke contact, only to deliver a small kiss of her own as though wanting to punctuate the first.

Yang smiled as they sat back. “I can’t think of anyone better to have in my corner.”


	13. Double Trouble

**Yang**

> _ Hey, you up? _
> 
> _ Yeah, but why are you? It’s the middle of the night. _
> 
> _ I know, I can’t sleep. _
> 
> _ Bad dreams? _
> 
> _ Some. _
> 
> _ Some good ones too though... _
> 
> _ Ha, well balance is important. _
> 
> _ What are you doing up? _
> 
> _ Working. _
> 
> _ Shocker. Do you ever sleep? _
> 
> _ Occasionally. I seem to recall sleeping really well last weekend. _
> 
> _ Maybe you should stay over more often. _
> 
> _ Oh? _
> 
> _ Purely for the health benefits, obviously. _
> 
> _ Obviously. _
> 
> _ Ready for this weekend? _
> 
> _ I think so. _
> 
> _ Nervous? _
> 
> _ I’d be worried about myself if I wasn’t. You? _
> 
> _ Nah _
> 
> _ You’re so full of it. _
> 
> _ Fine, maybe a little. _
> 
> _ Alright champ, you need your rest. _
> 
> _ Fiiiiiine. I’ll try. _
> 
> _ Goodnight sunshine. :) _
> 
> _ Pet names already, huh? I dig it. Goodnight! _

\--

“All set to go?” Yang asked as she sidled up to Blake at the train station on Saturday night. Using the cold and her stiff shoulder as an excuse she had opted for more practical attire for the evening, ditching her usual skirt and flats for jeans and boots, though her unzipped bomber jacket revealed she had still chosen a top that was showing off what Blake felt to be an unfair amount of cleavage.

“Sure am. What do you think of my new look?” she asked, pulling up the sleeve of her long white jacket to reveal a black shirt sleeve.

Yang cocked her head and leaned in, staring closely at the garment and discovering a subtle pattern made of several beads, almost invisible due to being a near-perfect match to the black shirt itself. “Wait, which one is it?”

“Oh, good, you can’t tell. That’s what I was going for,” Blake said. “It’s near the middle of the swirl.”

“I still can’t see it,” Yang admitted, shaking her head. “That’s some nice work.”

“You can pat me on the back when we’re done.”

“Deal. Shall we?” Yang asked as the train pulled up to the station.

The trip to the latest arena, an abandoned shopping center that was slated for demolition in a few months, was mostly carried out in silence. Both women were focused on what lay ahead of them, determined not to let the other down. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, they still took every opportunity to make gentle and seemingly accidental contact with one another to calm their nerves and marshal their inner resources.

Gear picked up, bow removed, empty streets traversed, and one large obnoxious bouncer teased, they found themselves back again in the excitable pre-fight crowd. As Blake prepared to split off and go look for the fox faunus he appeared, as if summoned, right in front of them.

Yang, poker face flawless, gave him an annoyed look, “Move it, pal. I’ve got places to be.”

“I’m sure you do Dragon,” he said, never taking his eyes off Blake.

“Wow, you know who I am, just like everyone else here,” Yang said, rolling her eyes and looking past the nuisance in front of her. “We done?”

“My apologies, of course we are. Your faunus friend and I, however,” he paused, having placed a great deal of emphasis on ‘faunus’, “have business.”

“I’ll take care of this, you go ahead,” Blake said calmly, not wanting to look like a subordinate to her human companion at such a crucial moment. Yang shrugged as if it was none of her concern and continued on the path now left open to her as the man stepped aside to speak to Blake.

As she sauntered away through the crowd the man nodded in approval, “For a human, she is almost tolerable, and certainly a strong fighter. Any chance she’s hiding something as well?” When Blake shook her head quietly he shrugged. “Ah well, her loss. Now, about that business I mentioned,” he said, turning and holding out a card. “Half an hour from now, bring this to that door over there.” Blake looked where he indicated and saw a door with a burly man leaning casually next to it. “Tell them Rusty sent you.”

Blake moved to leave, assuming he was finished, but was stopped in her tracks when he reached out and grabbed her arm none too gently. “Oh, one more thing," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "Show that to anyone, even your little Dragon friend, and the next person to see your pretty little face will be the poor sap that fishes your body out of the river.” Satisfied that his point had been made he let go and waved her on dismissively. “Run along now,” he sneered.

And she did.

When she felt sufficiently lost in the crowd, Blake took a surreptitious look at the card in her hand and frowned. It was blank; just a pure white business card. Running her finger across it revealed a subtle change of texture laid out in some pattern, but not one she could determine by feel. Giving up on uncovering its secrets for the moment she buried it safely in her pocket and wound her way back toward the ready room to wait.

She ignored the leers of the other fighters as she quickly located the private room set aside for the champion and slipped inside. Before Yang could question her she motioned her to silence, paranoid at who might be watching or listening after her pointed warning. She was glad to see that Yang quickly caught the gist and sat back down, feigning disinterest.

“All good?” she asked, exuding boredom.

“Seems so, I just need to step out for a bit soon.”

“Sure, no worries. You gonna be back in time to tape me up?”

“Should be,” Blake said, not really knowing.

“Cool,” Yang said, laying back like she was going to nap but clearly still on guard.

Blake tossed her coat on the tilting table in the corner and tried to calm her nerves. When that proved futile she walked over and perched on the arm of the couch Yang was reclining on and reached out tentatively toward her gilded head. Sensing no resistance she gently ran her fingers through the long flowing hair, buying a small measure of peace for both of them in the otherwise tense silence. After nearly twenty minutes her nervous energy got the better of her and she climbed to her feet. Yang watched her with worried eyes as she departed, turning once with a single nod but not trusting her voice as she departed.

After a few circuits of the outer edge of the arena to kill time Blake slipped into a revolting bathroom, tapped in the sequence that activated her camera, verified that it was recording, then quickly put her scroll away before returning to the fray. From there it was a short walk to the nondescript door she was to enter in approximately thirty seconds; assuming her internal clock was as accurate as usual. The large man from before, a bull faunus by the looks of his horns, still lounged by the door as though half asleep. Despite his appearance, he noted Blake’s approach immediately and without opening his eyes challenged her before she could reach the door, “Sorry kiddo, that’s private.”

“Rusty sent me.”

“Is that so?” he asked doubtfully, opening one eye suspiciously. “Well, out with it then.”

For one agonizing moment, Blake patted herself furiously, unable to find the card from earlier. The instant before full-on panic could set in she discovered that it was tucked behind her scroll in her pocket. The bouncer snorted in irritation as she finally fished it out and handed it over but produced a small flashlight that shown an odd purply blue (UV, of course, Blake thought) and revealed a symbol that held so much meaning to her she was surprised she hadn't identified it by touch. It was the symbol of the White Fang, specifically the one that had been adopted when a new leader had been appointed and the organization moved away from its purely peaceful tactics. Like the original, it was the silhouette of a nonspecific beast, but somehow more vicious-looking and with the addition of three claw marks slashed behind it. Blake wasn’t sure if she was encouraged or frightened that the cell she was tracking was operating under that banner. On one hand, it meant they weren’t, yet, totally independent of the still somewhat reasonable organization. On the other, it could mean they were sanctioned by the rest of the White Fang, whether officially or not, and that would mean the situation was worse than she thought.

“Fine, head inside. You’ll have to surrender that scroll in your pocket though. You’ll see where,” he said, nodding at the door. After handing back her card he returned to his false repose, the girl in front of him no longer his problem.

Blake cursed herself for being careless and revealing her scroll as she walked through the door, her eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness of the small room beyond. She was grateful, as always, for her fantastic night vision, and doubly grateful that here she need not hide it. Not all faunus could see as well as she could at night, but no humans could, so it was yet another thing she had to hide most of the time. She wasn’t sure if her camera would do as well as her eyes in the dim light, but she trusted it would do well enough. As she finished her quick scan of the space her eyes came to rest on a squat man with a wiry tail sitting behind a folding table. He also demanded to see her card but this time flipped it over, reading a series of numbers and letters on the back and checking them against something on his scroll before nodding and handing the card back without bothering to look at her. After rummaging through a box next to him he produced an odd white mask that looked like a caricature of a beast from a fairy tale.

“Put that on, don’t take it off until you are specifically instructed to do so,” he said in the robotic tone typical of a customer service agent tired of repeating the same scripted sentences ad nauseum. Struck by the absurdity of it all Blake fought not to laugh and placed the mask over her face, lining it up so she could mostly still see.

In the meantime, the man had pulled out an envelope and, to Blake’s further amusement, a claim ticket. “Put your scroll in the envelope, it will be returned when you leave but only if you have your ticket. No exceptions.”

Blake hesitated but ultimately knew that it was better to risk walking out of range than to risk getting caught with a scroll. One was unfortunate, the other could mean death. She placed her device in the proffered envelope, shook her head in disbelief at the ticket she received in return, and moved on when he distractedly waved for her to do so. Behind him was another set of doors leading to a more normally lit room with about a dozen people, all clearly faunus and all wearing masks similar to her own. With few exceptions, no one stood too close to anyone else, and those that did were huddled and chatting nervously, likely having entered together. Blake found a corner that was unoccupied and as close as she figured she could get to her wayward scroll and did her best to lean casually against the wall.

On some unspoken signal, a man jumped up on a small platform and raised his hands for a silence that had already been granted. The mask he wore left his mouth uncovered, and when he spoke it was obvious why he had been chosen for his task. His tone was smooth and rich, resonant like a stage actor's and with charisma to match. Blake wondered how many lost souls had been called to violence on the sound of his voice alone, but set that aside to listen to his words.

“Faunus brethren and perhaps, one day, fellow brothers and sisters of the White Fang. Welcome. You are the first initiates of the evening, which means you either came here tonight for this very purpose or are just that eager to join our cause. Regardless, I won’t waste your time or my breath trying to convince you of that which you already know. That human rule is unjust, that the state of the world is unacceptable. In this room, I won’t lecture on the importance of equality between man and faunus, because you should already know that statement is an insult to us.”

The crowd was quiet and still, hanging on every word. Not just a pretty voice, Blake realized, someone who can read a room. After apparently deciding he had let his point sink in long enough the man continued, lowering his voice now that he knew he had them.

“No, I won’t waste anyone’s time telling you what you already know. I’m going to tell you what will be. A revolution is coming, the yoke of oppression will be thrown off, and we will rise up and take our place as the rightful rulers of this world!” Several people cheered at this, but when the man again held up his hands the room immediately descended back into rapt silence. “I’m glad to see such enthusiasm, as this is the part where I say we need your help. But here, your enthusiasm is a double-edged sword.

“For those who are simply passionate about the cause, I thank you, and I assure you that we will put your fervor to good use. However, at times those most interested in joining us are doing so for, let’s say, less than noble purposes,” he intoned darkly. For a moment Blake swore he looked at her and she was grateful that her mask covered her startled expression, but his gaze passed so quickly that she found herself wondering if it had landed on her at all, and shakily chalked it up to coincidence. “Because of this, I cannot simply welcome all those who would join with open arms, for that could bring us to ruin. Instead, we will be performing some additional... screening, I suppose you could say.” At a nod from the man, two White Fang members walked through the crowd handing out flashlights like those the men at the entrances had. When Blake received hers she immediately pulled out her card and looked at the back. It read, ‘#5: A65743’.

“What you see is a branch number for a Vault storage location and a locker that you will find there. If you are so inclined, memorize those numbers, for in a moment my brothers will come to retrieve your cards. If you wish to join us, you need only say so, and you will be given a key in return. In one week go to the locker and you may find your orders. If your locker is empty, take heart! Even if you aren’t chosen right away a second chance may yet be offered to those who remain faithful. Regardless of what you find, leave the key behind and depart the location immediately. If you do not follow these instructions to the letter our response will be swift,” he said, pausing to turn the empty eyes of his mask to every hopeful initiate in turn. “And final.” After one last dramatic pause, he hopped off the dais and strode toward the opposite side of the room, disappearing through an unseen door.

As he left his men passed through the room again, asking everyone in turn if they wished to become a brother or sister of the White Fang. When Blake was asked she swallowed her apprehension at the risk she was about to take and responded with the only real option available to her.

“I do.”

\--

It took almost twenty minutes to get out of the room since they were forced to space out their departures. This was done both to prevent the rest of the crowd from noticing a mass of faunus emerging all at once from one place and also to give them a chance to separate from one another and remain anonymous. By the time she was finally handed back her scroll and sent out the door, Blake had almost bitten the fingernails on her left hand clean off. It frayed her nerves nearly to the breaking point to cover the distance back to the changing room at a measured pace and she practically slammed the door shut behind her when she finally reached the closest thing she had to a safe haven in the dilapidated building.

Yang looked up when she entered, just having started her stretching and sporting a grimace as she moved her shoulder through its full range of motion. Her pained look was replaced by a collage of relief and curiosity as the door shut, and Blake was thankful that she managed to resist asking the questions that were no doubt fighting for release. They were going to have to risk talking, but it had to be kept to a minimum in case they were being observed.

“Ready for tape?” she asked.

“It’s a little early for that,” Yang started, catching on a beat too late but doing her best to recover. “But why not?” she said as she grabbed the tape and gauze from her bag and handed it over to her obviously-distressed friend. She took a seat and held out her hand. Blake knelt in front of her and leaned in close to examine her knuckles.

“I got in,” she whispered, slowly starting the gauze wrap.

“And?”

“I mean assuming the camera worked I have proof that the White Fang is here, recruiting for something big. It could be enough for a raid. Even if it’s not I have another possible lead. There’s no need for you to fight tonight.”

“I hear a lot of ‘if’s and assumptions, Blake. Besides, what do you think is going to happen to us if we bail now?”

Blake had to concede that point. It was unlikely that big friendly Rasher would be quite so friendly if the main event of the evening tried to stroll out before she put on a show. Still though. “Fine, then throw the fight, whatever, just don’t kill yourself to win when we might not need it,” she said.

“Blake, think. Even if you do have enough to get the police to run a sting operation, they need to know where to go. How do they know if I don’t win?”

“That’s where my other lead comes in,” she replied.

“And how sure of a thing is that?” Yang asked pointedly.

Blake hesitated.

“Blake?”

“There’s no way to know,” she admitted reluctantly. “They said if I don’t hear from them that I might get a second chance. I would probably need to come back.”

“This is sounding an awful lot like I still need to fight and win.”

“But I have the video!” Blake said, fighting to keep her voice low. “They openly state who they are and that they’re planning something.”

“Check it.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

Blake opened her scroll, setting it on the floor between Yang’s feet as she continued to prepare her hands for the fight. After tapping a few times the video feed came up, starting when she activated it in the bathroom. She watched for a few minutes as her night was replayed and then cursed softly.

“That good, huh?”

“This can’t be right,” she said frantically, rewinding and watching again.

“What is it?” Yang asked gently.

“Everything was working fine, but they took my scroll from me and put it in this envelope, and then the video cuts.”

“Did the envelope have a kind of stiffness to it, maybe a shiny interior?”

“I don’t know, maybe. Yeah, I guess,” Blake said, still skipping through the video, trying to find something of value in the recording. But it was all blank, right until the moment the view cut back in and she saw her scroll being offered back to her waiting hand. “No!” she shouted, forgetting where she was.

“Blake, relax, it’s just tape,” Yang said, reminding her that she was supposed to be cautious. It was unlikely anyone was watching or listening in, but given they had a camera the size of a pebble it was hard to be too sure.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just thought I did something right for once,” she said. Shaking her head in disgust she scooped her scroll up and shoved it back in her pocket, furious how wrong everything had gone.

“It was probably an EMF-proof envelope, you couldn’t have known at the time,” Yang said softly, reminding Blake that while the hands she was binding were those of a fighter the head hovering a few inches above her own housed a remarkably brilliant technical mind. “They block all wireless signals, which would explain the gap in the recording.”

“Brothers take them and their fucking envelopes,” Blake muttered, at least happy to have an explanation. “They still might contact me.”

“Might. Even then, what are you going to do? Play terrorist for a while until you can get something on them?”

Blake looked on the verge of saying something, thought better of it, and simply sighed, recognizing that there was only one course of action available to them. “Yang,” she said, looking up into the expectant fighter’s eyes. “Will you kindly go kick some poor fool’s ass for me so that I’m not totally screwed?”

Yang grinned, looking far too excited considering the nature of the request. “I thought you’d never ask.”

\--

The time simultaneously dragged and flew by for Blake, her fear causing her to pace incessantly despite constant assurances that everything would be fine. Her mood was not improved by the addition of a strange thick tape that she had been asked to place across Yang’s shoulder, apparently to help keep it in place. To her it looked like a bullseye, asking to be attacked, but she grudgingly agreed when Yang pointed out that whoever her opponent was, he had likely been told of the injury already anyway. Still, it was a reminder that the stubborn woman wasn’t invulnerable, and that was not something she wanted to think about.

All too soon the announcement for the final fight of the evening began. Hoping to gain some insight on the challenger Blake stuck her head out the door, cocking her ears towards the stage. She immediately yanked her head back in, a look of shock and confusion on her face, “Yang, come here. They just announced your opponent as the ‘Twin Terrors’. They wouldn’t make you fight two people at once, would they?”

The women looked at each other for a moment before moving as one to the door and then out to the edge of the entryway, watching as two nearly identical girls walked to the ring, one in red and one in white. Seeing them, Blake breathed a sigh of relief.

“At least they’re tiny. Compared to the people you’ve been fighting this should be relatively easy,” she said but heard nothing in response. “Yang?” Blake turned to see her standing with eyes wide and jaw slack, a glint of terror forming in her eyes.

“Yang, what’s wrong, who are they?”

Yang cleared her throat and said hoarsely, “Those are the Malachite twins, and I am so fucked.”

“Why, are they that good?”

Yang started explaining, hurrying as she knew her intro was about to start, “Fucking shit yes they are. Miltia, the one in red, has won every amateur boxing tournament she’s ever been in, would have gone pro but she failed too many drug tests and got banned for life. Can I take her? Alone, yes, probably. 80% sure. 75, whatever. I think so. It’s her sister who’s the real problem though. Melanie, kickboxing amateur world champ, tried out Taekwondo on a whim and would have squared off against our very own Pyrrha, who’s a beast, by the way, but was caught in the semis slipping weights into her foot pads and disqualified. Same thing happened across various tournaments for a few years before she was kicked out of most organized fighting events. Her, I don’t know. At my best, with a month to train? I’d have a 50/50 shot. If I have to fight them both at the same time this is going to be the shortest bout you’ll ever see.”

“What are you going to do?” Blake asked, her mind reeling.

“Me? Nothing. I’m planning on handing this one over to the Dragon and hoping for the best.”

Blake wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry, but seeing Yang armoring herself with her more dangerous persona she slipped on her own stoic mask, not wanting to show those waiting on them the fear that currently permeated the empty changing room.

As the call for the champion finished Yang strutted into the cavernous room, looking for all the world like someone whose victory was preordained. It may have been an act, but it was a beautiful one, and Blake threw her all into completing the image, putting as much disdain as she could for these lowly challengers into her stride. Yang stepped into the ring just as Roman began explaining the rules for the evening, his eyes glinting with malice.

“Now, the champ here has been kind enough to agree to a special event tonight,” he began, grinning at his own lie as he looked oh-so gratefully at the stony-faced fighter. “She won’t be fighting both of these incredible challengers at once,” he said, pausing as he waited for the booing to die down before going on, “Now now, maybe another day!” he exclaimed to wild cheers. “But instead the twins will trade rounds, forcing our tenacious champion to adjust to their unique styles while also matching their combined stamina. I begged her to say no, telling her it was too much for any fighter, but our champion isn’t just any fighter, she is the Dragon!”

By the time he finished the crowd was whipped into a total frenzy. Blake couldn’t say if it was for or against Yang, but either way, she didn’t like the feeling emanating from the roiling mass of bodies. More than ever this crowd wanted blood, and they were sure they were about to get it.

As Roman walked out of the ring he put his hand heavily on Yang’s right shoulder, narrowing his eyes slightly when she didn’t even flinch. “Good luck kid,” he taunted.

“Fuck you, won’t need it,” came the response, cold and dismissive.

“It has been such a joy working with you,” he said, covering the remaining distance to the gate and hopping down as a ringside bouncer closed it behind him. “I’m really going to miss that spunk,” he said over his shoulder, striding off into the crowd.

The twins, meanwhile, were playing a rapid game of rock paper scissors. Outcome decided the girl in white shrugged and walked through the gate on their side just before it was swung shut. Miltia remained and bounced on her toes a few times, shaking her arms out and staring at her opponent, unimpressed by the supposed champion standing flat-footed in the far corner.

The bell sounded and she charged in, taking one look at Yang and assuming that the nobody in front of her was clearly overhyped. She noted as the blonde shifted into an orthodox stance, hiding her obviously injured shoulder but leaving plenty of other openings. She smiled smugly, thinking that cage fighters were all the same: big dumb brawlers who assumed one good punch was enough to be a champion. That this ‘Dragon’ had held the title as long as the announcer had claimed only showed how poor the competition was to the likes of her and her sister. Still, no official organization would touch her anymore so she had to get her kicks where she could.

Once within range, she snapped off a rapid combination, starting with a stinging jab, following immediately with a quick cross and a flurry of hooks intended to open her guard, and finishing with a switched stance lead uppercut, planning to end the fight all at once. To her amazement, her final punch landed not on the chin she had been aiming for but in the palm of a hand, which left her wide open to a counter cross. Clearly, the tape had been meant as a distraction because Miltia found herself knocked flat and skidding across the ring with the force of the blow, only barely climbing to her feet before she was beset with punches that she only managed to block through muscle memory and anticipation while she waited for her vision to refocus.

The rest of the round was more tactical, both girls circling and showing their opponent more respect. After the bell sounded the challenger walked back to her corner in a huff as her sister stepped in to take her place, looking at her disdainfully. “Miltia what the fuck? You almost got your ass kicked in there,” she sniped.

“I don’t know Melanie, this girl isn’t a total joke or whatever,” her twin complained.

“We’ll see. Maybe you’re just losing a step.”

Over in Yang’s corner Blake was passing her water and encouraging her as best she could, but there wasn’t much for her to do and she had no idea what was coming next. “Yang, you’re looking great, you can definitely take that one,” she said, allowing herself to feel a little optimistic.

“Yeah well, we’ll see after I have a round with her sister.”

“I thought you were leaving it to the Dragon?” she teased, desperately trying to keep her morale up.

“Right you are. What was I thinking?” came the cocky reply, mask firmly back in place.

As the gate swung shut Blake desperately hoped that the Dragon could pull off a miracle.

Yang had intentionally drawn the Miltia’s reckless charge by playing possum, but there was no point in trying that now. When the bell signaled the start of the round she settled back into her stance, trying not to be frustrated that she couldn’t reliably fight with her right out front as she so often did.

Melanie approached more slowly but her attacks came as fast, if not faster, than her sister’s had. The speed with which she could fire off a series of kicks was blinding, and it made it difficult for Yang to close the distance between them despite technically having a longer reach. To make matters worse this twin was more adept at targeting her weakened right side, forcing her to use her shoulder to catch repeated and powerful blows aimed at her head and starting a dull ache in the joint that Yang knew spelled trouble down the line. Seeing that she needed to change things up she started reaching into her bag of tricks, switching from her preferred boxing into a more kickboxing focused form, thinking to fight fire with fire. Though she was able to score a few light tags, as the round ended her only real triumph was that she hadn’t yet been KO’d.

She walked back to her corner, took the water bottle from Blake, and considered her next move thoughtfully.

“Uh oh, that look normally means trouble,” Blake remarked.

“Yeah, it probably does,” Yang admitted with a smile, handing back the water and shaking out her arms.

“What’s the plan?”

“Fighting two of them is going to tire me out too quickly, I need to finish one so I can focus. Obviously, I’m going for Miltia.”

“You say that like it’s easy.”

“Honestly? She’s a great fighter, but I’ve got 4 inches and 40 lbs on her, and this isn’t a boxing match. She’s on my turf.” Laughing at her own bravado, Yang added with a wink, “Be back in a flash.”

She turned to face her new opponent with a smirk. “Hey Miltia, you might want to tell your sister not to get too comfortable,” she called, receiving a scowl in response.

The third round started as a mirror image of the first, with Miltia flat-footed, arms crossed as Yang charged in. She brought up her guard at the last moment, thinking to catch Yang with a counter to the obvious jab she had thrown. Her cross never landed though, as its target had rotated away just in time and only a split second before a kick landed hard in the girl’s ribs, cracking more than one. She tried to stagger away from the onslaught, but her lead hand was grabbed in a crushing grip and used to yank her forward and down, way off balance. Before she could right herself an uppercut came from almost the level of the canvas directly into her solar plexus, driving her up and off of her feet, her breath forcibly expelled from her lungs. Her vision exploded with stars as she tried desperately to catch sight of her attacker, but she was so stunned that she couldn’t distinguish the oddly luminous fighter from the other flashing lights in her eyes. Before her feet touched back down or her muddled mind made sense of what she was seeing, a blazing fist emerged from the bright haze and kindly delivered her into darkness.

Just like that, it was over, and Yang was standing over the slumped form of Miltia Malachite while staring down at her glowering twin. The bell sounded and a two minute round break was announced as Yang strolled casually back to her corner.

“Well fuck me,” was all Blake could manage.

“Maybe later, I still have a bit of fighting to do.”

“Shut up,” Blake said, smiling. “That was damn impressive.”

“Classic shock and awe. It’s funny, for people who are known for cheating they seemed to expect me to fight by some sort of rule book,” Yang mused, rinsing her mouth and considering her next move.

“Good point. Think that will work with the other one?”

“I’m not sure. She’s a better fighter and has an advantage over my preferred style, so I can’t overwhelm her in quite the same way.”

“You still have the same size advantage though.”

“True,” Yang said thoughtfully. “Hopefully that will be enough.”

As the fourth round began it did not, in fact, appear to be enough. Melanie came out like a demon, clearly angry about what had happened to her sister and looking to avenge her. She switched stances constantly, harrying her opponent with leg kicks from both sides and generally keeping her off balance. Yang parried and ducked as many of the attacks as possible, protecting her head but taking a beating around the shoulders and ribs. She knew that she was in trouble as the tempo increased, every time Melanie missing by a narrower and narrower margin until a hard side kick caught Yang square in the diaphragm, knocking her back across the ring and leaving her gasping.

Her enfeebled state did not go unnoticed and she soon found herself beset by another series of lightning-fast kicks. After two slips her muscles were screaming for oxygen that her lungs could no longer supply; on the third, her brain finally called it and her vision went temporarily black. She didn’t even feel her hands drop, and never saw the kick that landed square on her temple, knocking her across the ring. Anyone struck by such a shot should have been out for the count.

For better or worse, Yang was not just anyone.

As she stumbled into the cage her fingers caught in the links, holding her up reflexively. Blessed air finally filled her lungs, and her vision cleared just enough to show her attacker rushing in, intent on finishing the job. Or maybe it was two attackers? Yang tried not to think about why her vision was doubling and reached inside for the flame. That reason she kept coming back, despite pain, despite injury, and despite lying to nearly everyone in her life. She called and immediately received the eager response, her body flooding with ferocious power as her vision, still unfocused, went red.

Her attacker was clearly aiming for her head, so Yang didn’t need to guess where to block. Instead of just stopping the kick, as she had before, she let its power spin her wildly. Using the momentum of the spin she delivered a vicious elbow to Melanie’s ribs, staggering her. Before she could recover Yang reached out and grabbed her arm, asserting her superior size with glee as she yanked the girl around her in a half-circle, ducking under the arm she was holding and as she reversed her own rotation to deliver the most powerful spinning jump kick of her life directly to Melanie’s exposed chin. The brutal impact of the blow followed by an equally intense crash to the canvas left no one doubting the result of the match.

As the Dragon stood over her latest toppled foe her ears were filled with the exuberant cheers of her fans, or at least they were until they were replaced by a dull ringing that caused her head to pulse painfully. With her vision still doubled she was starting to feel decidedly nauseated and it was only through sheer force of will that she held herself erect and steady, refusing to show how badly hurt she truly was. She wasn’t able to focus enough to actually hear what Roman said when he entered the ring, but she figured that snarling was the most appropriate response and eventually he raised hand briefly to signal her victory before stomping back out.

After he departed Yang walked slowly over to her corner, waving to the crowd like the champion she was, and caught a brief glimpse of gold ringed in black below her. “Get up here,” she said, trying not to move her lips.

“Why?” Blake asked, climbing up before the answer came.

“Because if you don’t help me out of this ring I’m going to fall out.”

“Gods dammit Yang, I knew she really caught you with that head kick. Hold on.”

Blake tucked herself under Yang’s left arm, planting a kiss on her cheek and acting like she was just part of the celebration. Subtly she helped the disoriented woman down from the platform, taking a significant amount of her weight but trying not to show it, then guided her as smoothly as possible back to her changing room. She deposited her gently on the couch, keeping her upright and using the flash from her scroll to check her pupil response. She did not like what she saw.

“Yang I’m not a doctor, but your pupils are not dilating equally, like at all.”

“Yeah, that’s probably because I have a concussion,” Yang said, waving her off and covering her eyes.

“There’s no probably here. How the fuck did you stay on your feet?” she asked in disbelief.

“I’m too stubborn to get knocked out. Fuck, I’m not too stubborn to puke though, hand me a trashcan,” she said urgently, holding out her hand but keeping her eyes shut tightly.

Blake rushed to do just that and Yang emptied the contents of her stomach none too gracefully into it. While she did her panicked partner ran through the limited amount she knew about concussions.

“Do you know where you are?”

“On a shitty couch in fucking condemned, excuse me.” Blake waited while she vomited again before continuing, “Ugh, a condemned building where I fight under the moniker ‘the Dragon’. I don’t have memory loss Blake.”

“Ok fine, just checking. Yang, we should really get you to a hospital.”

Yang laid back on the couch, clenching her eyes shut and pressing her fingers to her temples.

“Yang.”

“Yeah, I heard you. Fuck, sorry, you’re right. Just give me a minute.”

It took several, but Blake was able to get Yang into her street clothes, which she had fortunately worn straight to the venue, and they walked toward the door, Blake holding her upright. Before they got out into the thinning crowd Yang stopped them, digging through her jacket and sighing in relief as she found her aviators tucked in a pocket. Putting them on to cover her obviously unfocused eyes she gave Blake a sloppy thumbs up and they walked out unmolested save a few cheers of congratulations as they passed.

\--

The ER doctor this time seemed way more rested than the previous one had been and extremely curious about Yang’s injury, much to the patient’s chagrin. Her case was not helped by the fact that her concussion was accompanied by several other small nicks and bruises, and that her chart indicated she had just been in the week before for a shoulder injury. When finally pressed on what it was that had caused the injury Yang concocted an outrageous story about a pushy guy with a hard skull who had danced up behind her unexpectedly (and poorly) and caused their heads to collide. Blake held her breath, sure that this obviously nonsensical lie was going to be called out, but apparently it was just crazy enough that the doctor didn’t even want to try to unpack it. After sending her for a scan that showed no brain bleed the doctor discharged her.

Before they left, however, she pulled Blake aside, clearly hoping for a straighter answer from the seemingly more put-together woman.

“Is she always like this, or would you describe her behavior as abnormal?”

“No, believe it or not, she is pretty much always like this. If anything this was her on good behavior.”

“Was she lying to me?” the Doctor asked candidly.

“Does it matter?” Blake responded, just wanting to leave.

The doctor paused, considering, “That depends, is the person she was fighting going to come in here next?”

Blake shrank, struck by how on the nose the doctor’s guess was. “What? No, it’s nothing like that. She couldn’t hurt a fly, it’s just that sometimes she goes a little wild on the weekends. Her friends are trying to rein her in a bit, I promise,” she stammered.

“Fine, then her friends should also observe her for the next 24 hours, to make sure she doesn’t have worsening symptoms. Let her sleep but wake her up every 3 or so hours to make sure she responds normally. And make sure I don’t see her in here again any time soon,” she finished disapprovingly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Thank you, for everything,” Blake said as the doctor moved on to the next patient, shaking her head and muttering about kids and their partying.


	14. Hiding Away

“Are you going to drive me home now?” Yang asked through a yawn as they approached Blake’s apartment building.

“No,” she replied, fumbling with her keys. “You’re staying here tonight.” 

“You know," Yang said, her words slightly slurred. "Normally I’d expect to be wined and dined first, but I could maybe be persuaded.”

Blake rolled her eyes. “Yang, I watched you puke in a trash can an hour ago, that is not why I’m inviting you in.”

“Fine. What’s the big idea?”

Blake sighed, guiding Yang inside and steadying her as she slowly made her way up the stairs. “Last weekend Weiss told me,” she started, pausing as she strained to keep them both upright after a precarious stumble. “She told me to keep you safe. To protect you.”

“Classic Weiss, always giving orders,” Yang said fondly. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about her.”

“I am,” Blake admitted readily. “She really cares about you and I don’t think bringing you home like this would get me a warm invitation back any time soon. Call me a coward, but I’m just going to keep you here until tomorrow when you should be feeling better.”

“You’re not a coward you know.”

“What?”

“You’re not,” Yang insisted. “You always say things like that because you think you are, but you’re not. You’re really brave,” she said, a dreamy look in her eyes as she slumped against the wall at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah well, you’re punch drunk,” Blake said as she reached up and patted her on the cheek, “but very sweet nonetheless. Come on, in you go.”

A few minutes of debate later Yang conceded that in her current state a shower could prove a dangerous affair, but refused to go to bed as she was. Blake proposed a compromise and, receiving no pushback beyond a noncommittal shrug, drew her a bath instead. When it was ready she sat outside the bathroom and listened nervously as Yang awkwardly lowered herself into the water.

“You ok?” she asked of the half-closed door.

“I didn’t die getting into the tub if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It was, smartass,” she shot back, smiling despite herself. Realizing it was likely to be a long night she set about making tea. While the kettle was heating she dug through her clothes to find anything she could loan Yang for the night, worried she wouldn't have anything her size. Finally settling on her loosest pair of pajama pants and the t-shirt she had borrowed (with no intention of returning) on game night she reached in and set them on the counter. When her intrusion went unnoticed she called out nervously, “Still doing Ok?” Her heart skipped a beat when she was greeted by silence. “Yang?!”

“Yeah, what, yeah I’m fine,” came the grumpy response.

“Did you pass out?”

“No, shit, sorry, maybe a little. I’m super tired and just got really comfy. Hold on I’m going to wash real quick and get out before I fall asleep.”

Blake waited by the door until she heard movement and then paced around the apartment, stopping only to pour herself tea and breathing a sigh of relief when she heard the tub drain. After a good deal of muttering and cursing the blonde finally emerged, eyelids heavy and one hand tangled in her wild mass of hair.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Blake said, reaching out to lead Yang the short distance across the room.

“Good call, I’m beyond exhausted.”

“You’re exhausted? I’m the one that’s been carrying you across Vale all night,” Blake quipped.

Yang smiled sheepishly, “Yeah, thanks for that. Let’s not make a habit of this though, ok?”

“I couldn't agree more. Just once I’d like us to end up sharing a bed because we want to, not because someone got injured.”

They finished their short walk and Blake steadied her down into the bed and pulled the covers over her. In seconds Yang was snoring softly, exhaustion having completely overtaken her. Blake set a timer to go off in three hours, in case she also fell asleep, and sat down to try to get some work done while she waited.

\--

“Yang. Yang? Yang you need to wake up.”

“Mm no, don’t want to.”

“I’ll take that as a normal response.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Ok.”

\--

“Yang, wake up.”

“Nooooooo”

“Definitely normal, you can go back to sleep now”

“You. Suck.”

“Mhmm, I know.”

\--

Yang managed to wake of her own accord before the next alarm went off, rising to find Blake improbably sleeping while sprawled across her two wooden chairs. Though her brain felt like it was trying to escape her skull she was pleased to find as she stood that her equilibrium was back. Before she was able to properly enjoy the new development a quick glint of sunlight peeked through the blinds and bored straight into her brain like an ice pick. Despite the searing pain in her temple, she decided she couldn’t leave Blake as she was; just looking at her awkward position gave Yang a deep ache in her back. Or was that from the fight? She shook her head slowly and tried to refocus as she walked quietly across the room. Taking a breath to block out the outrageous pain in her head she gently picked up the sleeping form, remembering too late that her shoulder was still hurt and almost dropping her in the process. Somehow she recovered and managed to deposit her safely in bed.

As she pulled up the covers she took in the sharp lines of Blake’s face, relaxed in a way they rarely were when she was awake. Yang always found her beautiful but for a moment she was positively spellbound, losing all track of time as her eyes traced their way from her pointed feline ears through the obsidian waves of her hair, across the smoothed ridge of her normally arched brows, and down the slackened and delicate jaw to her slightly parted and oh-so inviting lips. Eventually regaining her senses Yang decided that hovering over someone was not the best way to help them sleep and moved stiffly over to the small table to sit down. A jolt of guilt ran through her as she remembered that the world still existed beyond the quiet room and she snatched her nearby scroll off the table to send a thorough apology to her no doubt worried sister. Much to Yang’s confusion, pulling up their thread showed a brief conversation from the night before.

**Ruby**

> _ Hey sis! Things are kind of slow for the moment, so I thought I’d check in. Having a fun night with Blake? _
> 
> _ I am! We’re just about to head out though, this place is dead. _
> 
> _ Just so you know, I may not be coming home tonight, so don’t worry if I’m not there in the morning. _
> 
> _ Haha of course you aren’t. Have you asked Blake to be your girlfriend yet?! _
> 
> _ Not yet. Think I should? _
> 
> _ Obviously! She’s totally into you. _
> 
> _ I’ll have to consider that. Have a good night Ruby! _
> 
> _ You too! _

Yang shook her head, worried that she may have gotten hit harder than she thought. Still feeling vaguely dazed she labored back to her feet and walked into the tiny kitchen to take stock. She quickly gave up on coffee and settled for hunting down the tea with the highest caffeine content in Blake's prodigious selection. Three or so mugs of the strongest black tea she could find later her headache was fading towards tolerable, or at least it was considering doing so until a high-pitched chiming set her ears back to ringing. As she searched for the source of the agonizing noise Blake sat bolt upright, looking around in panic.

“It’s right here,” Yang said, wincing as she handed over the chirping scroll.

“Sorry, I must have fallen asleep, that alarm was for me to check on you,” Blake mumbled, still clearly sleep-addled. “Are you ok?”

“I am. Awake and upright and everything,” Yang answered patiently, giving her a chance to clear her head.

“How do you feel?”

“Kind of shitty, but not like I’m on a swaying ship, so I call that a huge improvement.”

“Good, good. I’ll just get up and we can make breakfast,” Blake said, fumbling with the covers.

“Blake, stop,” Yang said gently. “First of all, there’s no food here and you know that.” Blake grimaced guiltily, it was true. “Second, you need to sleep. Lay back down. I’m totally fine and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Ok, I’m just going to close my eyes, but I’m going to get up soon and look after you.”

“Sounds good,” Yang said. 

But Blake was already asleep.

When she finally awoke it was to sounds and smells that had never emanated from her kitchen before. “Are you cooking?” she asked, rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn.

“I am.”

“Breakfast?”

“Well brunch at this point, since it’s a little past noon,” Yang replied lightly, turning off the stovetop and shuffling things around.

Blake reached for her scroll, groaning when she saw how late it was. “I’m so sorry, I really just meant to rest my eyes for a minute.”

“It’s fine Blake. I’m fine. Feel a bit like I got kicked in the head by a world-class athlete, but otherwise can’t complain,” she said with a wink, setting some plates down on the table. “Now come eat.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be taking care of you?”

“Yeah well, you can after brunch,” she said, bringing over two mugs of tea and some silverware.

Blake sat down and gaped at the dish in front of her, “Did you make eggs benedict? I didn’t know anyone made this at home.”

“Given that you own almost no cookware I doubt you knew that eggs could be made at home,” Yang teased. “But yes, I did, though I used smoked salmon for the meat. Thought that might go over well.”

“You are a goddess amongst mortals,” Blake said, grabbing a fork and digging in. She unashamedly made some very unladylike noises in response to the amazing flavors in her first bite. “Where did this all come from?”

Yang laughed, starting on her own plate. “There’s a grocery store a few blocks away that delivers. You don’t even have to leave your apartment.”

“Huh, never thought of that.”

“Clearly.”

The girls ate in comfortable silence, Blake watching Yang closely. Despite her cheery demeanor, it was obvious from her slow and deliberate movements that she still felt awful and was doing her best to cover it up. Her eyes did seem to be focusing normally though, so Blake decided not to say anything until they had finished. After her plate was all but licked clean Blake craned her neck towards the kitchen, curious if there was anything left.

“There’s more salmon in the fridge,” Yang said unprompted.

Blake laughed at her own transparency and hopped up to retrieve it. She briefly considered pulling out a small piece and putting it on a plate, but decided to save herself the trip and just bring the whole thing back to the table, much to Yang’s amusement. “Smoked salmon is one of my favorite things in the world. You must be a mind reader,” she said as she dug in.

“I mean the only things in your cabinets were a few cans of tuna and a single jar of capers. So it was more of an educated guess.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s soy sauce in there too,” Blake said indignantly through a mouthful of salmon.

“Packets from old takeout do not count.”

“I beg to differ.”

Her earnest attempt to defend her barren kitchen drew a hearty laugh from Yang as she began to clear plates. Both her cleaning and laughter were interrupted, however, when she stood up a bit too quickly and a headache struck her like a runaway train. For a few seconds, there was nothing she could do but grimace and hold the table to steady herself while she waited for it to pass. In a flash Blake was at her side, gently guiding her towards the bed.

“Yang, please. This was very sweet, but you clearly need to lay down for a bit.”

Realizing that protest was pointless she complied, allowing herself to be led. “Yeah, ok, you’re right. I still have such a bad headache.”

“I’m not surprised. Just relax, I’ll clean up,” Blake said as Yang laid down gingerly. Satisfied that her patient was complying, she retrieved the dishes from the table and deposited them in the sink. As she did she saw a new sponge, still in its packaging, sitting on the counter near the empty grocery bags. Laughing softly to herself as she unwrapped it she got to work, trying to make as little noise as possible.

“You don’t have to be so quiet, I’m not sleeping,” Yang said after a few minutes.

“Noted, though I figured you might still be sensitive to noise,” Blake said, drying a plate with her only dish towel.

“Maybe a little, but it’s not as bad as it was. Light’s still not great though,” she said, one arm covering her eyes.

“Anything I can do for you?”

“Know anyone who can tell the sun to ease off a little?”

“Afraid not.”

“Then I guess just talk to me. The sound of your voice is soothing.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything really, you could tell me a story. Maybe something true?” Yang ventured, just the faintest hope slipping into her tone. Please, it said, please let me in.

“All stories are true, in their own way,” Blake said softly, wanting so badly to tell her everything, every painful reality of her past. Stories that had been locked away for nearly a decade were suddenly clamoring to be set free.

“You know what I mean. I’m not,” Yang groaned, her headache flaring. “I’m not trying to pry, though. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s ok. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I haven’t shared things about my life with anyone in a really long time. I guess I just feel like some things are better left in the past,” Blake said, looking out the window and searching for strength. Yang had given her so much and she wanted so badly to give her something in return, anything at all. Certainly more than the walls she had offered thus far. She put down her towel as she reached back into her past, deftly avoiding memories she needed to keep buried and searching for something real but safe. Finding what she was looking for she stepped away from the sink and turned toward the bed with its eagerly attentive occupant.

“I grew up in a village in Menagerie,” she began, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “A large one, though obviously tiny compared to Vale.”

Yang snorted, “I’m from Patch, so I’m not exactly a born and bred city girl.”

“Well, I guess we have that in common,” Blake said fondly. “Looking back, things weren't always easy, but at the time I didn’t know it. My parents did what they could to give me a good life, to show me that there was still joy to be found in times of hardship.” Talking about her parents was difficult, but far easier than talking about what came later. So Blake focused on her earliest memories and spoke of learning to climb a tree with her dad and fish with her mom. Of running through the village market and staying up so late reading that she would look out her window and see red on the horizon long before giving in to sleep. She could almost feel the heat of the southern sun as she tried to paint the colors of her childhood with her voice. Eventually, she trailed off, her palette of words exhausted despite parts of the canvas remaining conspicuously empty. Yang opened her eyes, examining her, trying to be patient. Finally, her curiosity won out.

“Why did you leave Menagerie?” she asked, but upon seeing Blake’s face immediately tried to retract her words. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to. That was presumptuous.”

“No, it’s a fair question,” Blake said, trying not to be upset and mostly succeeding. “But it’s not a story I’m ready to tell.”

“I understand,” Yang said meekly, still looking guilty.

“Yang, I’m not mad at you. You should always feel like you can ask me things. I just...won’t always be able to answer right away.” Blake said, regretting her prior reaction and the obvious effect it was having.

“That’s fair.”

“Tea?” she asked, hoping to change the subject and apologize simultaneously with her humble offer.

“Please,” Yang replied, seeing her intent and accepting immediately.

Blake padded over to the kitchen and let the routine task draw her back to the present. Behind her Yang sat up experimentally, shuffling back to prop herself on the wall and closing her eyes while she waited for the throbbing between her ears to die down.

“Hey, something’s been bothering me,” she said.

Blake’s hands faltered, nearly dropping the whistling kettle. Recovering as silently she could she set it down and turned with a blank expression, fear building at the question to come. “What is it?”

“Did I text Ruby last night? I saw messages on my scroll but I don’t remember sending them.”

Blake breathed a sigh of relief and laughed self-consciously. “Oh, um, not exactly. I didn’t want her to be worried so I took the liberty. I hope you don’t mind,” she said, adding quickly, “I didn’t look through anything else, I just thought... you don’t mind, do you?”

Yang was in the process of turning a lovely shade of crimson when Blake looked up but did her best to play it off. “No, I don’t mind. Thank you, I wouldn’t have wanted her to worry. Sorry she chose that moment to have zero chill.”

“Yang, it’s ok,” Blake said warmly, bringing over a steaming mug. “It was kind of endearing. Your sister just wants you to be happy.”

“You are enjoying this way too much.”

“Just a little,” Blake said, failing to hide the gleeful look in her eyes as she blew into her tea. “That said, maybe I should get Ruby’s number in case I need to text her in the future. That way she doesn’t let anything else slip.”

“I. Shut up. Yeah, I’ll send it to you," Yang said as she looked down, rolling the edge of the blanket nervously in one hand as she stared into the depths of the mug in the other as though looking for some hidden message. “So...”

Blake saw the next question forming before it could be asked and panicked a little before deciding to intercept it. “Can we, not, have that conversation?” she asked, wincing at her own words. Attempting to qualify she added, “Yet?”

Yang tried not to look as hurt as she obviously felt. “Yeah, no. I mean, obviously. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not like that-”

“Blake, I said it’s fine.”

But it wasn’t, and Yang wasn’t one to wear her heart anywhere but on her sleeve. Blake wished she were someone else, if only just for that moment. In that moment she would have given anything to be the person she might have been if her life had played out like it should have. She could have crawled into those strong arms and whispered promises and declarations into her ears while signing each with a kiss. But she wasn’t that person; she could hardly even imagine what it would be like to be that person, so instead, she sat dumbly as her own heart cracked more than a little to match that obvious damage she had done to Yang's.

Blake sighed, letting go of her attempt to find a piece of who she could have been and doing her best with what she was. “Yang, I didn’t say I never want to have it, I just,” she said, pausing as she struggled to explain but soldiering on despite herself. “This is so unexpected. You’ve caught me completely unprepared.” She smiled softly, hoping her words were getting through.

“This isn’t exactly what I imagined when we teamed up that night at the bar either,” Yang replied, sullen but listening.

“I’m just not used to this, any of this. Things are still so new and fragile and I’m, honestly, terrified,” Blake admitted, hoping that by laying what truth she could at Yang’s feet she could buy understanding, acceptance, broken though she was. “I’m afraid of messing it up and more afraid of what happens if I don’t.”

“Yeah, join the club,” Yang said softly.

“It’s a shitty club,” Blake said, looking down and reaching for Yang’s hand, which she gave somewhat reluctantly. “Can we let things come as they will? For now?”

“Of course,” Yang said immediately, her eyes radiating sincerity. “Blake that’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m not trying to trap you or lock you into anything.”

Blake felt a rush of emotion so strong that she had to look away. Refusing to label it for fear of what such a label could mean she let it flow through her unnamed. When the wave had passed, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake, she looked back up and marveled at the incredible woman sitting across from her. “One day at a time?”

“One day at a time.”

\--

The afternoon gave way to evening and the sun finally relented, granting Yang a much-needed reprieve from its rays. The two spent the day in a warm bubble of conversation, tucked away from the world, and generally content to let it move along without them for a while. Blake snuck some work in whenever Yang had to take a few minutes to lay down and rest but otherwise they simply enjoyed their seclusion. When dinnertime rolled around they ordered takeout. Neither of them was ready to break the spell of the day by leaving the apartment and the limited supplies remaining from breakfast were clearly inadequate for the task. While clearing up the detritus from their meal Yang felt an unwelcome awareness of external obligations stirring at the edge of her thoughts. Unable to silence it she reached for her scroll and checked the time, registering it with a groan. 

“Shit, I should probably head out,” she said, her statement more than halfway to a question.

“I mean if you want I can give you a ride,” Blake said, trying to look innocent, “Though the doctor did say I should observe you for 24 hours.”

“Did she now?” Yang asked, playing along. “I mean I am feeling much better, but if it’s medically indicated...”

“Wouldn’t want to go against doctor’s orders, would you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Yang laughed. “But I think I’ll be the one to tell the girls I’m not coming home this time.”

“Can’t wait to hear how that goes.”

“I never said I’d share.”

“Touché,” Blake replied, smiling as she made herself scarce by bustling about the apartment while Yang typed out a quick text. The buzzing reply came almost immediately and just as quickly the scroll was closed and tucked away.

“Yup, well, they know, it’s fine,” Yang said tightly, trying to avoid eye contact as her cheeks reddened.

“Do I want to know what they said?”

“You might, but I’m not telling.”

Blake smiled at the blonde’s discomfort, which passed swiftly once they returned to the rhythm of their personal microcosm. The better part of the next hour was spent dancing around the idea of going to bed, both finding the concept more exciting if less restful than usual. Before the issue came to a head they were interrupted by another buzz of Yang’s scroll.

“Ruby taking one more chance to bother you?” Blake teased.

“I doubt it, but possibly,” Yang said, her brow furrowing. “No, it’s an unknown number. Probably my next fight.”

“Yang, what if it’s soon? You can’t risk it,” Blake said, her mirth pushed aside by concern.

“Let’s just see before we get too worked up about it.”

Unable to wait, Blake peaked around her shoulder as she opened the message and sighed in relief.

“Thank the Brothers.”

“Yeah, that could have been bad. Two months though? I don’t know, I don’t have a great feeling about that.”

“Why not?”

“Clearly this back-to-back was an attempt to unseat me, so I doubt they suddenly want to make sure I’m well-rested. Could be they don’t have anyone lined up yet, but they also could be hoping I’ll get soft in the meantime, or maybe they have some other gambit in the works,” Yang said, rereading the time and date as though she could decode its secret message.

Blake was too relieved to worry about hidden meanings, and she sighed as she leaned her head forward into Yang’s back and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m just glad you’ll have time to heal.”

“I mean I’m certainly not complaining about that,” she replied, absentmindedly caressing the hands encircling her. “But what about your investigation?”

Blake ducked around her so they stood face to face. “Oh, I never told you in all of the craziness! In a week we’ll know if my lead pays off.”

Her retelling of the events of the night before did little put Yang’s mind at ease. “I don’t like it,” she said simply when Blake finished.

“Yeah well, I haven’t liked most of this, but it’s something.”

“How do you know this isn’t a trap?”

“I don’t, but they don’t know exactly when I’m going to be there,” Blake replied, suddenly not so sure.

“Hmm, maybe. This still feels funny.”

Blake angled up to kiss her gently. “I appreciate your worry, but please trust me. I have to do this.”

Yang smiled, enjoying the still novel affection, “I do trust you, but I’m allowed to worry. I’m in your corner too.”

“I know,” Blake said, looking up into her eyes and enjoying the protective concern she saw there. “Let’s go to bed.”

\--

Pale light from the city filtered through the blinds as the pair lay back in bed, casting banded shadows across the wall and leaving an ethereal glow hanging in the air. It lent itself so perfectly to the moment that though she was sure she hadn’t yet succumbed to sleep Yang was tempted to pinch herself. The shadows didn’t hold quite as much mystery for Blake, but she was every bit as entranced when she saw the face on the pillow beside her illuminated by the ghostly light. Before she could lose her nerve she rolled over to curl up tightly against Yang’s side, an act that was welcomed with open arms, and basked in her radiant warmth. The two lay for some time in silence, enjoying the magic of one last secluded moment before sleep ferried them through the night to a day that would force them to leave their hideaway and grudgingly rejoin the world.

“I’m really sorry, but I feel like I should wake you up once tonight, just in case,” Blake said quietly, enjoying the feeling of the hand tracing circles on her back.

“I’m sure I’ll live. I expect it to be done the right way though.”

Blake chuckled, “Oh? And what, exactly, is the right way?”

“With a kiss, of course,” Yang said, demonstrating on the top of the head nestling into her shoulder.

“Ah, of course. How else would one wake a sleeping beauty?”

“See? You get it.”

“Just to be clear, did you mean a kiss like this?” Blake asked slyly, tilting her head back and kissing her chastely on the cheek. “Or like this?” she followed up, kissing Yang’s lips suddenly and deeply and enjoying her sharp inhale of surprise. When she pulled back she giggled at the dazed look on the face so close to her own.

“That, definitely like that,” came the breathy reply.

“Hmm, I think I get it,” Blake went on, feeling unexpectedly brazen. “But to be sure, would this work?” she murmured, kissing Yang’s neck, just below her jaw. “Or how about this?” moving toward her collarbone.

Suddenly Yang went rigid and Blake immediately stopped, propping herself up to see what had gone wrong. “I’m sorry, did I move too quickly? I thought...sorry,” she said hurriedly, mortified at her own forwardness.

“No, no! Don’t apologize. Fucking dammit, it’s just that my head still really hurts,” Yang said, looking miserable.

“Fuck, of course, I’m so sorry! I just got carried away.”

“No, it’s totally fine! I just got kicked in the head so hard.”

“I was there.”

“Really, really hard.”

“Yang, relax, it’s ok,” Blake smiled and settled back to her previous spot, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not,” Yang said, still distressed. “I hate everything. Wait, are you laughing at me?”

“No,” Blake said, though the answer was very much yes. “Maybe. It’s just, here I was worried about moving too quickly and you went and skipped all the way to ‘not tonight honey, I have a headache.’”

“You are unbelievable,” Yang said, clearly not as amused as the still giggling Blake. “Gods, I’m going to sleep. Goodnight Blake.”

“Goodnight dear.”

“I can’t even.”

\--

“Yang. Yang, you awake?” Blake said, smiling and planting a gentle kiss on her full lips. “I heard your breathing change, I know you are.”

“Definitely sleeping. Probably need another kiss,” she replied with closed eyes.

“I would, but I wouldn’t want to aggravate your headache,” Blake said with mock sincerity.

“I’m never hearing the end of this am I?”

“No, likely not.”

“Wonderful.”

Despite her grumpy tone, Blake could see the smile creeping onto Yang’s mouth. She planted one more kiss there and they both drifted back into a contented sleep.


	15. New Discoveries

“Morning Pyrrha!” Yang chirped as she strolled into the lab the next morning.

“You’re both late and in a wonderful mood,” Pyrrha said, finishing the line of code she had been agonizing over and kicking off a new build. “Which begs the question: how was your weekend?” she asked as she turned to face her friend, one eyebrow cocked knowingly.

Yang opened her mouth to reply and stopped, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Ruby or Weiss?”

Pyrrha paled and turned back to her build, suddenly very intrigued by the rapidly scrolling text. “I’m sorry?”

“Which one told you?”

Pyrrha worried her lip for a moment, generally incapable of lying but loath to throw anyone under the bus. Eventually the former won out over the latter, “Fine, Weiss.”

“Knew it.”

“Then Ruby,” she added with a wince.

“Both of them? I definitely should have predicted that,” Yang said, unable to muster up the anger or indignation she had been aiming for as she fought the instinct to skip over to her workbench.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“It was…” Yang trailed off, trying to come up with a single descriptor that captured her time with Blake. A cascade of words offered themselves up: magical, wonderful, intimate; all true, but all somehow missing the essence of what happened and leaving out the less pleasant aspects. At the thought of how the weekend had started and the slight headache she still bore as a testament to it, a broad grin split her face. “Mind-blowing,” she announced dramatically.

Pyrrha looked at her manically laughing friend, trying to understand the clever joke she clearly thought she was making but coming up empty. Eventually, she couldn’t help but join in both because Yang’s obvious joy was so infectious and it was so good to see her dear friend in such high spirits. The two carried on talking and laughing throughout the morning until Yang said she had to stop by Ren's lab to ask him a question, promising to come back and join Pyrrha for lunch so she could give up all the juicy details.

As she walked down the hall separating their labs Yang's smile faded a bit. She didn't like how much editorializing she was going to have to do in her retelling, but there was no helping it. Secrets needed to be kept, and there was more on the line than just her reputation with her friends now. She would just have to find a way to dance around her convalescence and focus on the truth of her connection with Blake, of the closeness they had shared in their unplanned weekend retreat. That was what Pyrrha wanted to hear about anyway, or so Yang rationalized as she fought to ignore the knot of guilt pulling tight in her chest. Her mood was not improved, unfortunately, as she breached the threshold of Ren's domain and remembered the true nature of her current visit. Spotting her target hunched over an unseen device she pasted a neutral expression on her face and called out a greeting, “Hey Ren!”

It took a moment, but the tinkerer noticed his guest. “Oh, hi Yang! What brings you in this time, another prank?” he asked, flipping his magnifying lenses away from his eyes and blinking as his vision adjusted.

“This is more about general knowledge acquisition,” she offered, trying to act as though it were merely professional interest.

“A noble pursuit,” he said, curious but suspecting ulterior motives. “What’s the topic?”

“GPS,” she replied, casually examining some of the implements neatly arranged on his workbench.

“That’s old tech Yang, not much I can tell you that isn’t widely known,” he stated, his suspicion growing.

“Yeah, no, I know," Yang said, stalling as she chose her words carefully lest she was forced to answer uncomfortable questions about her motives. "I'm specifically interested in the limits of that tech.”

“Go on,” he prodded, slightly more intrigued.

“How small can a receiver be and still be accurate?”

“How accurate?”

Yang considered this before answering, “Within a city block.”

“Internally or externally powered?”

“Internally,” she said. She could see the gears turning, which meant he was hooked. No need to play coy any longer.

“How long does the charge need to last?”

“A week, maybe a little more.”

“How often is it calculating its position?”

Yang winced, not having thought of that, “Unknown.” Ren shook his head, but before he could tell her that wasn’t enough information she hazarded a guess, “Let’s say on the order of minutes, possibly as low as once an hour.”

“A factor of sixty is hardly a narrow window.”

“Please Ren, it’s the best I’ve got.”

“Is the data stored locally or is it being transmitted?”

“Fuck, also unknown. Can you give me an estimate for both?”

He sighed in mild frustration, not one to enjoy guesswork, but turned to his laptop and typed rapidly for a moment before pausing to read whatever had returned from his query.

“Is the question how small I could make it, or how small someone else could make it?”

“Right now the latter, though at some point I may be curious about the former.”

\--

**Yang**

> _Hey! Quick question, you know that new key of yours?_
> 
> _Hey yourself! What about it?_
> 
> _Did it happen to have a keychain on it?_
> 
> _Yeah, nothing useful on it though, just the Vault logo._
> 
> _Fuck._
> 
> _Why?_
> 
> _Do you have it on you?_
> 
> _No._
> 
> _Good. Wherever it is leave it there. What time are you free tonight?_
> 
> _I’m getting the sense this isn’t just about you missing me already._
> 
> _I mean it’s not... not that._
> 
> _I’ll be home at 8._
> 
> _I’ll be there at 7:59._

\--

True to her word Yang was outside when Blake arrived, leaning up against her bike and looking unperturbed by the cold despite the breath rising from her lips in steamy puffs.

“How long have you been waiting?” she asked, finding herself smiling despite her misgivings over the meaning of the visit.

“Not long,” Yang said with a shrug, clearly making an effort to seem relaxed as she reached into the saddlebag nearest her and pulled out a backpack. “Shall we?”

Blake nodded, too many questions and suspicions swirling through her mind for her to address any of them directly. “Are you sure you should be riding that thing so soon?”

“I feel much better today. Also, this is kind of important.”

“Ok, not going to lie, you’re starting to freak me out,”

“I’m sorry, I just have a hunch. We’ll know in a minute if I’m right,” Yang said, putting her arm casually around Blake’s shoulders and doing her best to exude a calmness that was obviously manufactured.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Me either,” she admitted with a grimace.

When they were safely inside Blake’s apartment Yang set about carefully emptying the contents of her bag onto the table, revealing a small assortment of devices and tools.

“What is this stuff?” Blake asked, the sinking feeling in her stomach growing heavier at the sight of the paraphernalia.

“Some gear I borrowed from Ren.”

Blake’s nerves finally got the better of her and she stopped dancing around the topic, “Yang, what the fuck is going on?”

Seeing that she couldn’t avoid explaining any longer, Yang shrugged her jacket off and looked up solemnly, “I think that key they gave you, or more specifically the keychain it’s on, has a tracking device in it.”

Blake sat down hard. “You can’t be serious. What is this, a spy movie?!” she cried, her eyes wide as she processed the absurdity of the situation. As various possibilities raced through her mind she dropped her voice to a whisper, “Fuck, do you think it’s recording audio also?”

“I don’t think so, but that’s not impossible,” Yang conceded, suddenly feeling self-conscious and lowering her voice.

“Yang, they could be listening right now!” Blake hissed.

“I really don’t think they are,” Yang said, trying to reassure them both. “I’m more worried about the tracker at the moment. Grab the key and we’ll have a look.”

“Fuck, they know where I live!” Blake said, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way she hadn’t in years. Suddenly every noise from the street was vaguely threatening, every passing headlight signaling a coming attack.

“We don’t know that yet,” Yang said steadily. “Let’s just see what we’re dealing with.”

Blake slunk miserably across the room to retrieve the key from a bag on the floor and handed it over. Using a pocket knife Yang quickly found the seam of the keychain and pried it open, careful not to leave any obvious marks on it. Even though she usually enjoyed being right, her face was grim as she pulled out a featureless black disk slightly wider than her thumb. Shaking her head she reached for one of her gadgets, a small tangle of wires and antennas, and plugged it into her laptop.

When Blake looked at her with a mystified expression she explained, “This is doing two things: first, it’s listening for signals across as many bands as possible to see if this little thing is transmitting.” Yang paused, looking at the readout on her screen. “So far nothing, but it could be spaced out so we’ll run that in the background for a while. Second, it's actively probing it on several known protocols to see if it has a passive response...Fuck! Wait. No, this is fine.”

“How is this fine?! Doesn’t that mean it’s sending a signal?”

“It is, but only in response to my probe and it’s just NFC. Sorry, that stands for near-field communication, so you can only talk to this thing if you’re super close.”

“I know the term NFC Yang, I may not be a super genius like you but I do write about this shit all the time,” Blake snapped, her temper significantly shortened by the violation the small disc represented.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound condescending,” Yang said quickly, looking up from the screen in hopes that the agitated woman hovering over her would see that she meant it. Given how much of her life she had spent being talked down to by people who underestimated her the last thing Yang ever wanted was to use her knowledge as a way to make someone feel small. It was just difficult sometimes to tap into her emotional intelligence while she was wrestling with a technical problem.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, this is all just so fucked up,” Blake said as she blew out a deep breath and tried to think rationally. Grimacing guiltily she went on, “Now I feel like a jerk but I have to ask: how close is super close? Like in this room close, or on this block close?”

Yang held up her thumb and forefinger before looking back at her monitor, “This close, really close.”

Blake cocked her head quizzically, “What use is that for tracking me?”

“I’m hoping... yes!” Yang said, the tension in her shoulders releasing as she sat back. “The answer is none, for now.”

“I don’t get it.”

“This thing is a GPS receiver, a dead simple one. Here, come look at this.” Blake pulled her chair over and sat down to look at the indicated lines of numbers. It was complete nonsense to her but clearly meant something to Yang. “Every so often it records a timestamp and location,” she said, pointing to each in turn. “Based on the difference between them it’s recording every five minutes.”

“And doing what with that data?”

“Storing it,” she explained, scrolling through the lines of numbers. “That must be why they were so insistent that you return the key. They aren’t tracking you in real-time, but they’ll sure as hell know where this key has been once they get it back.”

Blake sat back, breathing a sigh of relief. The images of men in masks breaking in and attacking her, or worse, Yang, that had been racing through her mind for the past several minutes slowly faded from her mind. The feeling that she was in far too deep remained, but there was no way she could back out now.

“You’re not still thinking of returning this, are you?” Yang asked, seemingly reading her mind.

“I don’t see what choice I have, Yang, this is the best lead I’ve got!” she said, her heartbreaking as she confronted the fear in her partner’s eyes.

“Even if they know where you live?”

“I mean…”

“And use that to figure out who you are?”

This stopped Blake in her tracks. Obviously, she was terrified of revealing her address to the White Fang, but in her relief at the lack of immediate risk, she had stopped thinking like a reporter. Daydreams of hiding out at Yang's or simply moving until things blew over evaporated as she realized how easy it would be to track down her lease and use that to unravel all of the other details of her life in Vale. Once they had her full name any halfwit with access to a scroll could find out where she worked. “Fuck, they could get me fired,” she said.

“Fired? Fired?!” Yang cried. “Blake if they find out you’re a reporter they might decide it’s safer to get rid of you. Maybe they’d tip off the cops and get you arrested for joining a terrorist group, or maybe they would just kill you. What good is a lead if you’re dead?”

“Killing recruits tends to be a bad strategy for building one’s ranks,” she pointed out, hearing the weakness of her argument as soon as she said it out loud.

“Blake. Please.” Yang said quietly, her eyes swimming with fear.

Something in Yang’s pleading tone shocked Blake back to her senses, and she realized guiltily that for a moment she had been almost eager to run into this obvious trap in the name of accomplishing her mission. She got up and paced the room, hoping the motion of her body would still her tumultuous mind. “Can you erase it?” she asked, focusing her thoughts on the task of stepping into the snare without getting caught.

“Probably, though it would just start recording again, and then you would have a big weird empty spot in the data that would be impossible to miss.”

“Fuck.”

“Although…” Yang said as she turned back to her monitor and began typing in quick, periodic bursts.

“Talk to me wiz kid,” Blake said, not enjoying being out of the loop on something that affected her so personally.

“Ok,” Yang said, nodding thoughtfully. “Your buddies at the White Fang clearly don’t have much of a tech department. I’m not a hacker, far from it actually, I only know what I need for my work and a few things I've picked up from Pyrrha. That said, even I could just pull this data. It’s not validated, it’s not encrypted, nothing, just plaintext.”

“Ok...and?”

“That means I can change it to be whatever I want and they don’t have any way to know that it was altered,” she said, looking up and smiling deviously.

Blake practically jumped on the girl, hugging her furiously around the neck. “Ugh, I knew you were a genius. What are you going to change it to?”

Yang considered this, “I’m not sure, and honestly, it doesn’t make sense to do it now.”

“Because it’s still recording,” Blake responded, happy to finally know an answer about the device without asking.

“Right, and getting the GPS to reliably record the wrong thing is probably beyond me,” Yang admitted.

“So what do we do?”

She bobbed her head side to side, considering options before settling on one, “For now? Nothing. I say we let this little pest keep doing what it’s doing. We have a week to figure out where we want them to think you’ve been, then when you’re ready to go we stop at that location, upload a falsified data set that leads to wherever we are, and you go drop the key off as planned.”

“Yang, if I could kiss that big brain of yours directly I totally would,” Blake said, her body flooded with a rush of renewed hope.

Yang, flush with the thrill of saving the day and the nearness of the one who had generally inhabited her thoughts nonstop of late, looked away shyly, “I mean, my head is feeling a lot better today...”

“Oh really?” Blake asked, chuckling as she leaned in and kissed her deeply. 

“Much,” Yang replied hoarsely as they parted, her attempt at innocence failing miserably as a hopeful smile grew beneath her reddening cheeks. While most of her attention was on the nearness of the woman in front of her, a small part of her was completely baffled at her own behavior. She was generally more self-possessed in situations like this, more likely to take the lead than not, but for once she found herself hesitant and unsure. In part it was because she was always cautious with Blake, never wanting to push or impose, but that wasn’t all of it. Her feelings were just so intense, too intense, and the fear that she would somehow ruin something so precious left her feeling uncertain of how to proceed. She raised her eyes to meet Blake’s, hoping to find a glimmer of a hint in their golden depths as to what she should do.

For a few loaded seconds, the two women gazed at each other silently, acutely aware of being so close that they were each breathing air from the other’s lungs. Blake’s mind reeled as her nostrils filled with Yang’s intoxicating scent, her eyes half closing as she was suffused with warmth and light, the soothing sensation offset by an excited fluttering that had taken up residence in her stomach. Given how often she second-guessed herself she was amazed at how sure she felt about what she wanted. Without breaking eye contact or allowing the distance between them to grow by a hair she pulled Yang to her feet and stepped slowly back toward her bed. “Well, if that's the case...”

\--

Yang hummed contentedly as Blake sprawled atop her, both of them grinning like idiots and still short of breath. Like with any first time there had been mistakes and little moments of awkwardness, stumbles and misses and hesitant questions, but that had only highlighted the beauty and newness of it all to both of them. For Yang, discovering all of the little nuances and quirks of a new partner had always been a thrill. She was never content to simply learn the language of a person’s body; she wanted to know their specific dialect and learn to speak it fluently. She had been unsurprised to find that the mysterious woman beside her proved as fascinating in this sense as she was in all other ways and she relished the thought of exploring every secret she had to offer. While her thoughts drifted and swirled Blake’s mind remained blissfully quiet, all of her attention on the strong heartbeat sounding from just below the spot where her face rested, the rhythm soothing her as she traced slow circles on a taut stomach.

“Mhmm, that tickles,” Yang intoned before yawning mightily.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Blake teased.

“Yes, terribly.”

“Liar,” she said with a self-satisfied smirk.

“I’m just glad I didn’t have to suffer grievous injury to get you in bed this time.”

“All you ever had to do was ask.”

“Duly noted.”

“Yang?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Yang asked, propping her head up to look down at Blake.

“For...everything, I guess? For who you are, for what you’re doing for me.”

“Blake, of course. You don’t have to thank me.”

“But I do,” she said, her tone urgent with the depth of her gratitude. “People aren’t like you, Yang. They don’t just help others like this. I mean come on, you agreed to help me before I even told you what I needed!”

“Well when you put it that way I sound kind of dumb,” Yang remarked with a smirk.

Blake burst out laughing, appreciating the moment of relief from the tension that had been building within her. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

“Ouch.”

“Your words,” she quipped, enjoying the feeling of Yang’s ribs expanding and contracting as she laughed in response. “I just appreciate it. Even disregarding all you’ve done to help, which is a lot, I didn’t realize how badly I needed to have someone I could tell about all of this. Someone I could share things with.”

“You know you can tell me anything,” Yang said, the sincerity in her eyes hitting Blake like a ton of bricks.

“I know,” she said quietly, suddenly painfully aware of all of the things still unsaid.


	16. Distractions, Diversions, and Interruptions

On Tuesday afternoon Weiss achieved what Yang had to admit was the pinnacle of judgmental looks and had it locked on her the moment she opened the front door. Not for the first time, it occurred to her that having her presence announced long in advance by a roaring engine occasionally had downsides.

“Oh, you still live here?” Weiss said curtly, returning her withering gaze to the newspaper in her hands.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been back twice this week and it just so happened that you and Ruby were gone both times,” Yang retorted. It had originally been meant as a snappy comeback but midway through she lost momentum as she realized it wasn’t landing at all as she’d planned. Abandoning her initial approach she decided to change the subject and hope for the best, “You’re home early.”

“Hoping to miss me in passing again, were you?”

Fuck. “No,” she said, feeling guilty despite being pretty sure she hadn’t actually done anything wrong. It was that infamous Schnee tone; it always made her feel like a kid trying to explain how her hand ended up in the cookie jar. “I’m just surprised. You aren’t normally back from studying until later,” she ventured, trying to remind herself that the guilt she was wrestling with was completely unfounded.

Weiss closed her paper. “I had an exam today, so I’m allowing myself to take the evening off and rest a bit,” she said. “I’m also hoping to see Ruby for at least a few minutes. Since starting nights she’s seemed rather lonely,” she added, a glimmer of her own guilt visible in her eyes.

“Oh,” Yang said, cursing herself for getting so wrapped up in things with Blake that she had lost track of what was going on in her own home. “Weiss, I’m sorry.”

But she was waved off, her friend softening somewhat as she beckoned her to come sit on the sofa. “Yang, I’m really glad that you’re happy. Truly, I am. I’m not about to get in the way of that, because honestly, it’s kind of overdue.”

“Thanks, Weiss, that means a lot to me.”

“But.” Of course there was a but. “Two things. One: be careful. It’s obvious you’re head over heels for this girl, but make sure you know what you’re getting into,” she said, and before Yang could protest she went on, “and two: don’t forget about your little sister. She’s going through a challenging time right now and won’t always ask for help, especially if she thinks that you’re busy with other things. Whether she asks or not, make no mistake, she will need you.”

“Just Ruby?”

“I am more than capable of telling you when I need something,” Weiss said, a fond smile taking most of the bite from her words. Fortunately, nothing more needed to be said between the two as their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Ruby descending the stairs unsteadily, nearly tripping as a massive yawn hit her midway.

“Yang!” she called sleepily as she spotted her sister then staggered down the last few steps and flopped down on the couch with her head in her lap. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Yang said sheepishly as she tousled her sister’s hair.

“Oh don’t worry, it’s mostly because of my stupid schedule,” she said as she smiled sleepily. “Soooooo, how’s Blake?”

“She’s gooood,” Yang said, matching her mocking tone.

“Are you two dating for real yet?”

“We’re heading in that direction,” she deflected, still somewhat uncertain of their actual status and trying not to let herself get overly worked up about it.

“Got it, you’re in that stage when you pretend you’re not but you really are,” Ruby said, nodding sagely as she got up and stumbled off in search of food.

“I mean, yeah. Kind of,” Yang said, laughing. “When did you get so perceptive?”

“Probably sometime after I stopped being a tween, which, you know, was a while ago,” came the reply from the kitchen.

The girls chatted for the few minutes it took Ruby to eat and gather her things, but it wasn’t long before she was dressed and out the door leaving behind wishes of a good night and grumbles about inhumane work hours. 

“Can you believe she’s almost a doctor?” Yang asked Weiss, pride swelling in her chest as she looked through the front window and watched Ruby climb in her car and drive off.

“I both can and can’t,” Weiss replied, her gaze distant and a bit dreamy.

Yang noted her expression but resisted the urge to comment on it, continuing instead with her initial train of thought, “I know I need to accept that she’s grown up, but sometimes when I look at her I still see that little kid with scraped knees following me everywhere with those big silver eyes of hers, just excited to be included.”

Weiss smiled at the image of young Ruby trailing behind her big sister, “It’s not hard to picture, she still looks at you like you’re her hero.”

“Ha, I don’t know about that,” Yang demurred. “Even after she was gone our mom was always her real hero. Before Ruby could pronounce the word ‘surgeon’ that’s what she always said she wanted to be and any time I got so much as a cut she would come running with a box of band-aids and try to patch me up. It’s incredible to me that she never let go of that dream after all these years and now she's actually doing it.”

“She’s a rather amazing woman,” Weiss remarked, her pale complexion doing a poor job of hiding the blood that seemed to be pooling in her cheeks.

“That she is,” Yang agreed, too lost in her own reverie to pick on her friend.

Collecting herself Weiss brought them both back to the present, “How do you feel about bad TV and wine?”

“I feel excellent about both of those things,” Yang said, happy that there finally seemed to be peace between them.

“You pick the show, I’ll grab some glasses and see what our options are.”

“On it!”

As Weiss bustled off to the kitchen Yang started flipping through channels, only half paying attention. After she had passed several stations she was hit with the feeling of having missed something and reversed course until she found what had tripped some internal alarm. On the screen was a newscast showing smoke billowing from a stack of shipping containers down by the docks. She sat forward and turned up the volume but the report was mostly done. Regardless, she didn’t need the woman with the microphone to explain to her the significance of the symbol covering most of the destroyed containers.

“Weiss! Get in here, you’re going to want to see this!” she called out.

“Relax, I found a bottle of red we haven’t opened yet,” Weiss said as she returned, glasses in hand. As she sat down she stopped and stared, finally registering the image on the screen. “That’s the SDC logo! What happened?”

“I don’t know, I just turned it on, it looks like there was an attack.”

Weiss was already typing furiously on her scroll, not waiting for the reporter to repeat herself. “Here!" she exclaimed, still skimming the report and reading the highlights aloud. "A shipment from Atlas came in last night, mostly from SDC... unloaded without incident throughout the day. Approximately an hour ago there was a reported disturbance, but before authorities could investigate one of the containers exploded. No injuries...first responders still trying to put out the flames...no word on persons responsible or intended target.”

“What the fuck? That’s insane!”

“You can say that again,” Weiss said thoughtfully, her mind already past shock and on to making connections and formulating questions. “Do you mind if I go make a few calls?”

“No, of course, do what you have to,” Yang said, still staring in disbelief at the footage.

“Thanks, I’ll be back down in a bit, I just need to check on some things.”

As soon as Weiss reached the top of the stairs Yang had her scroll out.

**Blake**

> _Did you hear about what happened at the docks?!_
> 
> _Yeah, the paper sent out an email to all of us immediately._
> 
> _Are they sending you out to ask questions?_
> 
> _Unfortunately no, it’s not exactly my beat._
> 
> _You thinking what I’m thinking?_
> 
> _Probably, but that could just be my paranoia rubbing off on you._
> 
> _Still though._
> 
> _Yeah, this definitely adds urgency to my investigation. Speaking of which, I’ve been thinking about that project we’re working on._
> 
> _Oh?_
> 
> _Yeah, we should meet up to talk about it. Tomorrow’s probably going to be a busy one, Thursday?_
> 
> _I’ll have my people call your people._
> 
> _Dork._
> 
> _See you Thursday!_

\--

The next morning Yang made a point of hanging around until her sister came home looking exhausted but somehow still chipper. She even listened politely as Ruby recounted her night, pretending not to be grossed out by the overly detailed stories. Once exhaustion finally caught up with the doctor-to-be she trudged up the stairs to bed and Yang set off for the lab, her mind still racing from the surprise news of the previous night. As she rode the twisting route up to campus so tried to think of any menial tasks that needed to be done; given her state of mind, she knew it would be crazy to try to do anything of substance.

Fortunately, she was saved by the fact that everyone at the lab had heard what happened and they all tacitly agreed to abandon any pretense of doing anything but discuss it. General facts were exchanged, then debated. Rumors were circulated, challenged, and amplified in that way that rumors so often are. Everyone knew that standard SDC goods were involved, but speculation ran rampant on what the rest of the shipment contained. Popular theories included experimental tech, rare pieces of art, jewels, and state-of-the-art atlas military weaponry. The last in particular caught Yang’s ear and she did her best to question those who brought it up, but everyone claimed to have heard it from someone else, and she soon gave up in gleaning any real intel.

After the supply of new details ran out, conversation fizzled and people drifted off to their workstations in twos and threes, more to convince themselves that they had, in fact, put in some effort for the day than to actually accomplish anything. Yang perched on Pyrrha’s desk as the redhead swiveled back and forth in her chair staring at imagined patterns in the ceiling. The two sat in silence for a time, both agitated but with nowhere to focus their swirling emotions.

Eventually, Yang got up, accepting the truth, “I’m going to the gym since I’m obviously not getting anything done today. Hopefully, it will help me clear my head. You want to come?”

“No,” Pyrrha said slowly, still somewhat distracted. “I may stick around for a while and work on a few things.”

“Fair enough, I’ll see later Pyrrha.”

“Later Yang. Make sure you don’t let those kicks get sloppy,” the redhead teased half-heartedly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Unfortunately for Yang's mood, the gym proved as productive as the lab. It didn’t take long on the bag for her to realize that she wasn’t in any shape to train yet. While it was true that her shoulder was still giving her issues it was the jolt of pain that came every time she so much as jostled her head that convinced her to cut it short. Frustrated but not eager to exacerbate her injuries she stopped and after a quick shower, she changed back into street clothes and headed home.

With Weiss either in class or off studying and Ruby still asleep the house was both mercifully and maddeningly quiet. Yang briefly considered watching TV but didn’t want to have to flip through images of the burning cargo from the night before that no doubt would be on every channel. Each one would be a scary reminder of the danger Blake was walking into; that Yang was helping her walk into it. Hard Pass. Instead, she picked up _The Man With Two Souls_ , flipping it open and finding where she'd left off. Despite being most of the way through she wasn’t yet sure how she felt about the book. The struggle of a dual nature certainly resonated and the tension of living a second, secret life, was absolutely something she could relate to. The lies, the thrill of letting go of inhibition, the fear that the dirty secret was somehow more true than the life lead in the daytime, all of these things rang true for Yang. Even if she hadn't related so strongly to the protagonist reading it always gave her a sense of closeness with Blake. For all of those reasons she expected to love it, and she almost did save for the small niggle of fear that it inspired in the back of her mind. It was obvious why she would relate to such a book, but why did Blake? What dark secrets was she hiding that made her choose this story above all others as her favorite?

What message, conscious or unconscious, was she trying to send to Yang by giving her this story in particular?

Realizing she had blankly scanned the same page four times while her mind wandered Yang set the book back down and banished her paranoia. Blake had secrets, this wasn’t new information, but from what she could tell they were mostly around old wounds; things that had happened that were too painful to talk about. While she desperately wanted to know everything about the fascinating woman Yang knew, all the way down in her bones, that nothing she learned was going to change how she felt about Blake. How could it? Rather than fighting where her thoughts were leading her she pulled out her scroll and reached out to the source of her distraction.

**Blake**

> _How was your day?_
> 
> _Crazy. Even those of us not on the big story were running like mad to cover everything else. You?_
> 
> _The lab was pretty distracted by the news today, so not much got done. I ditched early._
> 
> _I’m jealous, wish I could have joined._
> 
> _Me too.  
>  _
> 
> _No one seems to know much about what actually happened at the docks. Any chance you know more on your side?_
> 
> _Unfortunately, no. If anyone here knows more than the official story they aren’t letting on. I guess I’ll have to add it to the list of things I need to research._
> 
> _As though that list needs any additions._
> 
> _Truth._
> 
> _I can’t wait to see you tomorrow._
> 
> _You and me both._

Feeling much more settled Yang made a second attempt at reading. Her misgivings weren't entirely banished, but they had grown quiet enough for the time being that she only had to reread a page or two throughout the rest of the evening.

\--

The following night, after counting languorous hours and agonizing minutes throughout the day Yang finally arrived on Blake’s doorstep, feeling elated at getting to see her and terrified about the no-doubt risky plan she had in mind. It seemed highly unlikely that it was going to boil down to 'stay home and be safe' but Yang knew that whatever it was she would find it in herself to support it. She hit the buzzer to be let in and after taking the stairs two at a time was knocking at that now-familiar door.

Before her knuckles could make contact a second time said door was opened and she was pulled through the entryway with an inviting kiss. As Yang started to lean into it Blake laughed and pulled back, swatting her leather-clad shoulder lightly. “Work first, then play,” she said with a smirk as she turned back into the apartment.

“Fine,” Yang said, stomping inside melodramatically and closing the door. “So what’s the plan?”

Blake sat down, all business as she pulled up a map on her laptop. “Ok, so you said you can change the data to be anything, right?” Yang nodded. “Rather than just changing it to a random location to throw them off, what if we pick a place intentionally?”

“I mean yeah, we shouldn’t pick somewhere too far away or like in the bay,” Yang said, not quite following.

“Sure, but I don’t want to throw this opportunity away. If we’re going to give them a fake address, why not pick one that we can use? Set a trap of our own.”

Understanding dawned on Yang’s face. “You want to pick a place that could reasonably be where you live and stake it out,” she said, appreciating the simplicity of the plan despite her overall misgivings. 

“Exactly," Blake said, happy that her partner had caught on so fast. "One that isn’t tied to me or my name in any way and preferably doesn’t belong to someone else.”

“Ok, but where? Unless you have an apartment nearby that you’re renting under an alias...?”

“No, convenient as that would be I do not. I did, however, find a motel on the edge of the city. Turns out you can rent a room for a month and if you pay in cash they don’t ask too many questions. Or any, really.”

“Do I want to know how you know this?” Yang said, only partly joking.

“Probably not,” Blake said with a wink.

An hour or so later they had fleshed out the skeleton of a plan. Saturday they would go to the motel, alter the GPS logs, and after verifying that they looked right leave the key there overnight. The next day Blake would go back and retrieve it before heading on to the storage facility. It had taken a great deal of convincing but Yang had eventually agreed that violating the instructions to go alone could put them both in more danger. Instead, she was going to be stationed nearby as backup in case things went sideways.

Meanwhile, Blake would return the key as instructed. If she had orders waiting for her that would be ideal, but not necessary. All they needed was for the White Fang to follow up on the falsified GPS data that would be waiting for them. Blake would spend the next few weeks pretending to live at the motel, spending a few hours there each night to sell the ruse. When she felt it was late enough she would make a show of going to bed only to slip out of the small bathroom window in the back that faced an alley. While she would have preferred for them to see her come and go normally the risk of them trailing her to work in the morning was too great and getting any sleep at the establishment she had chosen was an unlikely proposition. Between terrorists and, far worse in Blake’s opinion, potential bed bugs, that was not happening.

Ideally, within a week or two someone would show up to surveil the dilapidated building she would be pretending to call home. Using some cameras liberated from Ren (“He’ll never even notice they’re gone!”) and various sensors that Yang used in her own work they were hoping they could simultaneously keep Blake safe and find a way to track anyone who showed up to follow her comings and goings.

“What if no one takes the bait?” Blake asked fretfully.

“Honestly? I can’t say I’d be sad about it if you weren’t followed home by terrorists.”

“Yang, this isn’t just about me. Lives are on the line. The attack at the docks showed that the clock is ticking; the White Fang is moving ahead with their plan and we still don't know what it is.”

“I know, I know. You're right," Yang conceded. "Still no word on what they were after?"

Blake shook her head in frustration, "No, nothing. I've dug as much as possible without drawing attention and no one seems to know what was in that shipment."

"Shit," Yang said, but seeing Blake's face fall at her admission of failure she fished around for something positive to latch on to. "On the bright side, I don’t think they put a tracker in this key for nothing. I’m pretty sure they’ll be checking in.”

“You know, when you put it that way it’s not exactly comforting,” Blake said, her attempt at playing her comment off as a joke foiled as she nervously folded her arms and shrank inward defensively.

Unable to restrain herself any longer Yang reached out and pulled her into a firm embrace. She did her best to banish the terrible images playing out in her mind of all the ways this could go wrong and simply held Blake tight, breathing her in. Mentally she made promises she was afraid to put into words, and instead tried focus on allaying both of their fears. “This is going to work, and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

“How about nothing bad happens to either of us?” Blake said, looking up at her earnestly.

“That works for me,” Yang replied softly.

Often people find themselves awash in emotions that they cannot possibly express with words. Sometimes it’s because there are no words, the feeling simply is. Maybe it’s too big or too fleeting or too complicated but whatever the reason for all of its reality it cannot be verbalized. Other times words are readily available to describe an emotion but out of fear of rejection or humiliation, they aren’t uttered aloud. Blake and Yang found themselves simultaneously at such a crossroads, certain they were there together but unable to discern which path had delivered the other. Blake, so far removed from her softer feelings after years of denying them, knew only that she felt a nameless tugging in her soul that could not be denied. Yang felt an identical pull but was well aware as she leaned down that with every kiss and caress her body was proclaiming the word that her voice would not, could not, say.

Love.

\--

“If I had known planning counter-terrorism missions was such a turn on for you I would have suggested it earlier,” Yang said cheekily as she lazed on the bed. She knew she was overcompensating for her own emotional vulnerability by being flippant but couldn’t help herself. She thought her feelings were returned, hoped they were, but couldn’t be sure and so took great care to make a show of levity. What existed between them felt like an ornate piece of glass, beautiful but fragile and likely to shatter if placed under too much pressure.

Blake was in the middle of looking for her scroll, which was somewhere in the trail of strewn clothing marking their earlier traversal across the room to her bed. “What can I say?” she said with a grin. “I guess I like a little danger.”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you like me?”

“Who said I like you?”

“I didn’t mean-“

“Yang, I’m teasing,” Blake said, coming to sit on the bed next to where she was sprawled. “You know I care about you, right?”

“Sorry, you’re just hard to read sometimes. I guess I get nervous.”

“There are plenty of reasons to be nervous right now, but my feelings for you are not one of them.”

Yang couldn’t help but laugh at herself for fretting over whether Blake liked her or not rather than whether they were going to survive their brush with violent extremists. Her laughter turned out to be contagious, especially when combined with the giddiness brought on by the very real danger they were facing, and soon they were both in hysterics and gasping for air. When she finally calmed enough to breath, Blake wiped an errant tear from her eye and checked her scroll, groaning as she saw that a last-minute assignment had come in and explaining regretfully that she needed to work. Yang, not wanting to be a distraction, got up to dress and leave, promising to get all of the equipment they needed the next day so they would be ready for the weekend. As she reached for the door Blake stopped her, turning her around and kissing her hard before pulling back just far enough that their lips parted.

“This is really unfamiliar and difficult for me,” Blake said quietly. “I’m sorry for not always being open about how I feel.”

“Blake, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Fine. Then thank you for being patient with me,” she said.

“Of course. For you? Of course.”

“Ok, I guess I can let you go now,” she said as she leaned in for another kiss.

And she did.

Eventually.

\--

“What’s your deal, Yang? You’ve been so quiet all night!” Ruby said, not taking her eyes off of the screen and mashing buttons on her controller like a woman possessed. “Not to mention distracted. Ha! I win again!”

“Guess I’m just a little tired from a long week,” Yang said, setting her own controller aside as the screen flashed with a banner declaring her defeat. “Mind if we call it on video games for a bit?”

“Sure, now that I’m finally winning you don’t want to play anymore,” Ruby said, but seeing the distant look on her sister’s face she added, “But I think I’ve had enough of kicking your butt for one evening. Let’s see if there’s something on TV.”

It was Ruby’s first Friday night off in quite a while and Yang was happy they could spend it together, even if she was struggling not to think about the weekend ahead. Weiss was out with law school friends so the pair had spent the evening cooking and chatting and drinking a bit before settling in for one of their semi-regular (though growing less regular with the intrusions of adult life) marathon gaming sessions. At first, Yang had welcomed the diversion, not to mention the chance to spend time with her increasingly busy sister, but as the night wore on her nagging worries had grown to occupy more and more of her attention.

“You sure you’re ok?” Ruby asked.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Sorry to be so spacey,” she replied.

“Thinking about Blake?”

“No!” she said quickly. Too quickly. With a guilty expression, she admitted, “Ok, sort of.”

“Then why so glum? Did you mess it up already?” Ruby teased.

“Excuse me?” Yang said, reaching over to put her sister in a headlock.

“Kidding!” she replied as she slipped out. “Seriously though, usually when you’re daydreaming about Blake you have this stupid smile on your face.” She paused to duck another half-hearted attack before going on, “Right now you look like you’re going to be sick. What gives?”

Yang tried and failed to come up with an explanation for her current fears and eventually just shrugged and slumped into the couch. A moment later her scroll buzzed as a text came in. In an instant, the device was out and she was reading the message.

“Is that from her?” Ruby asked.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

**Blake**

> _Hey, sorry, I know you’re spending time with Ruby tonight and I don’t mean to interrupt._
> 
> _Hey! Is everything ok?_
> 
> _Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m just pacing circles in my apartment, kind of keyed up about our plans for the weekend._
> 
> _I’m with you on that, but everything’s going to be ok. We’ve got each other’s backs._
> 
> _Thank you. That honestly means more than I can say._
> 
> _Any time._
> 
> _I also just wanted to text you because I’ve been thinking about you basically nonstop._
> 
> _Sorry to be a distraction._
> 
> _No you’re not._
> 
> _You’re right, I’m not. Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one struggling on that front._
> 
> _Glad to hear it. Sorry again, go back to your evening. See you tomorrow?_
> 
> _See you tomorrow!_

“See? That’s the smile I’m talking about. What did she say?” Ruby asked, barely polite enough to not lean over and look but obviously wanting to.

“She was just saying hi,” Yang said as she bashfully tucked her scroll away.

“That was a really long text just to say ‘hi’.”

“She also said she’s been thinking about me,” Yang admitted, playing with hair absentmindedly as her smile grew and fully replaced the grimace that she had been sporting periodically throughout the night.

“So I’m guessing things are fine then and you can stop acting like the world is ending?”

“I’ll do my best,” Yang deadpanned. Remembering how rare evenings with her sister were, she let go of her earlier fears and refocused on enjoying the moment. “Pick up your controller, I think I could go one more round.”

“That’s the spirit!”


	17. Baiting the Trap

At the first sounding of her alarm Saturday morning Yang was torn violently from her restless sleep and deposited none-too gracefully into the waking world. For a brief and disorienting moment, she thought she was back in undergrad battling her way through finals week, as that was the last time she could remember the sickening sensation of being completely wired with nervous energy but also painfully exhausted. After reminding herself where and when she was and letting go of her fleeting nostalgia for the days when her biggest fear was failing a test she dragged herself out of bed to hastily dress and pack her bag for the weekend. As she left her room she found her fatigue overridden by a driving need to get to her destination, to get past the time of waiting and on to the time of action, and she practically ran to the stairs and began bounding down. Halfway through her noisy descent, however, she spotted Ruby dozing on the couch and stopped short, tiptoeing guiltily down the last few steps and back toward the kitchen. There she found Weiss gliding silently between cabinets as she made herself a light breakfast.

“Where are you off to?” she asked as Yang crept over to the coffee maker to pour herself a small cup.

“Blake’s.”

“Should I be expecting you back tonight?”

“Nope.”

Yang didn’t bother looking bashful and for her part Weiss went easy on the judgment, simply rolling her eyes fondly at her clearly enamored friend downing her coffee. Not in the mood to tarry Yang placed her empty mug in the sink and gave Weiss a cheery wave, laughing silently at Weiss’s mock exasperation as she departed. Stopping to deliver a gentle peck on her sleeping sister’s forehead she grabbed her jacket and stepped out into the dazzling morning. Despite the glare of the sun, there was a noticeable bite in the air, and as Yang threw on her aviators and zipped up her jacket she breathed in deeply, the faint but distinct smell of frost a reminder that autumn was preparing to cede its reign to winter. Yang always felt that the changing of seasons was a magical time; one full of endless potential and possibilities. As the world gathered to transform itself the air felt suffused with the same energy that might course through a tightly-knit group at the start of a great journey or adventure.

Or so she imagined.

Laughing at herself for getting sidetracked by the smell of the air she tossed her duffel in one of her saddlebags and kicked her leg over the seat with practiced ease. With a flick of her wrist and a roar of the engine, she was off, racing down her block, eager to close the distance between herself and the woman she couldn’t seem to get out of her head. The bracing air and the sensation of speed brought Yang fully into herself, giving her a moment of clarity and immediacy that was a much-needed respite from the worry of the past few days. By the time she reached Blake’s apartment she was in much better spirits; face flush with the cold, hair wild from the wind, and bits of sunshine clinging to her skin long after she'd left the path of its rays. The effect was so striking that as the sleepy faunus woman opened the door and saw her radiant visitor she stopped and gaped at her for several moments before regaining her senses and inviting her in.

“I’ve never met anyone who literally glows when they’re in a good mood,” she said, still somewhat awestruck and trying to cover for herself with sarcasm.

Yang laughed brightly in response, taking off her heavy jacket as she entered the room and draping it on the back of a chair. She turned, intending to pull Blake toward herself, and found that she was already in her space, clearly one step ahead as she stood up on her tiptoes seeking a kiss. After greeting each other properly they stood for a time and held each other, Blake tucking her head under Yang’s chin, both thinking about the reason for their rendezvous and neither wanting to address it.

Yang broke first. “You ready for tomorrow?” she asked softly.

Blake nodded. “Honestly, tomorrow should be fine, it’s what comes after that I’m more nervous about.”

“Fair, but that’s why I’m here.”

“My golden knight,” Blake said, meaning it to be a joke but letting a bit too much sincerity leak into her tone.

Yang laughed along, pretending not to hear the deeper meaning in her words. Reluctantly, they pulled back from one another and began preparing to carry out the first phase of their plan. The necessary tech was already packed, but Blake still needed to get a few things together to complete her part. She had paid the motel manager extra to say she had rented the room a week earlier than she actually had, and though the man told her repeatedly that he didn’t give out guest’s information he had taken her money quite willingly. Since an empty room wouldn’t do much to back up the lie, no matter how convincingly it was told, Blake was bringing what she hoped was a reasonable facsimile of a bag one could live out of indefinitely. Closing the zipper and steadying her trembling hands she looked up at her silent companion.

“Let’s do this,” she said.

Having decided early on that it wasn’t worth the risk of taking either of their vehicles they opted for the train. Most of the trip was spent in tense silence, both trying and failing to avoid thinking about all the ways in which their scheme could go wrong and neither finding themselves inspired toward small talk. Instead, they gratefully sank into the weekend crowd, letting the discordant hum of dozens of conversations wash over them and carry them along to their destination. When the train ground to a halt at their stop they squeezed out, momentarily stunned by the relative silence as the doors closed behind them and whisked the remaining travelers off to their final destination. It was a bit of a walk from the train station, the motel not exactly being in a highly trafficked area, but eventually, they stood in front of the shabby structure.

“This place is...horrifying,” Yang said, incapable of even looking at the building with cringing a little.

“Yeah well, you try finding a place that’s cheap, takes cash, doesn’t ask questions, and is spotless. I’d say three out of four is pretty good,” Blake said, equally disgusted but resigned to doing what needed to be done for the mission.

“Fair. Still though...”

“I’m not arguing that it’s a palace, but it’s perfect for what I need,” she said, as much to convince herself as her doubtful partner. “Shall we?”

“After you. I insist,” Yang said, looking slightly queasy.

After playing with the lock for a moment Blake was finally able to get the door open with the ancient key she had been given, and the ladies were greeted by a room that exactly matched their expectations based on the exterior. Yang managed to hold her tongue but her expression spoke volumes.

“Don’t even say it,” Blake grumbled.

“I’m not saying anything.”

“I’d like to point out that you regularly hang out in abandoned structures and punch people in the face for fun.”

“Do you think one of those is available or…?”

“Shut it,” she said, smiling despite herself.

Yang laughed but got to work, not keen to spend any more time than absolutely necessary in the grimy room. She had spent the past few days designing a route that was plausible and led from the previous fight to their present location, leaving out their side trip to the hospital entirely. The update was straightforward and didn’t take long but, given the stakes, she spent the better part of an hour verifying it. Finally, she accepted that checking a tenth time was unlikely to yield a different result and she closed her laptop. “Ok, I’m all set,” she announced.

“Me too,” Blake said as she emerged from the bathroom. While Yang was working on her computer she had tossed clothes about and messed up the covers, generally making the room look inhabited. She had then set up the various monitors they had brought along. Motion and sound detectors near all doors and windows to alert her to anyone snooping around as well as various cameras set to transmit to both of their scrolls. Last, she had set up the camera in the bathroom window that would allow her to check the back alley outside before she climbed out. It wouldn’t do for her to be seen making an exit and thereby blow the whole thing.

“Great, let's get out of here. I feel like I need a shower just from sitting in here,” Yang said, packing up her things.

“I was kind of thinking of moving in, it has a certain charm,” Blake said with an impish grin.

“I hope you like sleeping alone.”

“You are so dramatic,” Blake said with a laugh, locking the door behind them as they returned to the fresh air and sunshine.

With nothing to do but wait the pair decided to meander back through Vale rather than heading straight back to Blake’s apartment. Gradually their strolling pace carried them from the seedier district into a tidy neighborhood of closely spaced houses and apartment buildings abutting a park that shone with the hues of autumn. The sun, high in the pale blue sky, carried little in the way of heat but was doing a wonderful job of highlighting the vivid foliage lining the streets. Between the vibrant explosion of colors and the bubbling voice of the beautiful woman at her side, Blake was so entranced that she didn’t notice her own shivering until a jacket was draped gently around her shoulders.

“Yang, I can’t take your coat, you’ll freeze!” she protested.

“Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over the chattering of your teeth,” Yang teased. “Besides, I always run pretty warm.”

“Fine, but just for a minute,” Blake said, snuggling into the fur lining in a way that indicated it would likely be more than a minute before she returned it.

They continued walking in bashful silence, both left somewhat flustered by the small but gallant gesture. Blake found herself oscillating wildly for a moment between confusion and joy, unaccustomed to someone being so attentive to her needs and seemingly expecting nothing in return. The ever-present voice of doubt in her head still claimed it was a trap, but she was finally beginning to see that suspicion was entirely divorced from reality and did Yang a vast disservice with its implication. Instead, she did her best to ignore the horrid whisper and allow herself to enjoy the warm feeling of being cared for and not to overthink the way her heart skipped a beat whenever their eyes met or their hands touched as they strolled along. As she was gazing over at Yang, seemingly unperturbed by the cold as she checked a street sign to get her bearings, Blake was struck by how deceptively solid she was, in all senses of the word.

Unless you knew what to look for it would be easy to see Yang as lean bordering on willowy, but Blake could see what others did not. She saw past the height and curves to the frame that was surprisingly broad and deep and covered in dense muscle. Her build and strength didn’t lend her much in the way of grace, exactly, but they made her sure, steady. At rest, she was as sturdy and immovable as a mountain, but when she was stirred into motion she flowed with the unstoppable power of an avalanche.

There was more to it than just her physical presence, though. Yang was, for lack of a better term, existentially solid. This, Blake suspected, was something that anyone who knew her felt, even if they could not name it. She was just so real, so present in a way that could not be denied. When Blake stood next to her there was an undeniable tugging sensation, a gravitational force that ignored her mass and acted directly on her soul, pulling her in. It was like an anchor, tethering her to the here and now and leading her back whenever her mind and memories carried her elsewhere.

It was Yang’s emotional solidity that truly fascinated and confounded Blake though. She was firm and unyielding in her core values but not because of emotional simplicity or lack of introspection; quite the opposite, in fact. Yang had a way of eliminating every unimportant detail from a situation and distilling it to its core, allowing her to make seemingly rash decisions that were actually completely aligned with who she was. This lent her a resolve that was almost frighteningly absolute. For most, offers of help came with conditions or limits, whether stated or implied, but not Yang. When it came to those she cared about or even just those in need she was always ready to give, to do whatever had to be done, period. She was a shelter from a storm, a piece of firmament to cling to when life sent a flood that wouldn’t budge no matter how high the water rose or how tempestuous its currents became.

“Where’d you go wandering off to?” Yang asked, leaning forward a bit to enter the daydreamer's field of view.

“Nowhere far, I was just...thinking,” Blake said, suddenly shy. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she hadn’t the faintest idea of where to begin.

“Was it about me?” Yang teased.

“Maybe,” Blake replied in what she hoped was a coy tone.

Yang laughed delightedly as they continued to stroll side by side, occasionally bumping into each other as though by accident, hands brushing unconsciously and fingers entangling whenever they did. For a precious couple of hours, they continued in that way, allowing themselves to ignore the reality of their situation while it waited in the wings as they acted out the part of a normal, smitten pair of twenty-somethings exploring a city as a pretext to explore their feelings for one another.

The sun eventually sank toward the horizon, dimming the lights and dropping the curtain on their shared fantasy. With the full weight of what they were planning to do settling firmly back in place, they turned reluctantly back towards Blake’s small apartment. They arrived under a veil of tense silence, and after numerous failed attempts at diversion they simply sat and waited, both fighting to contain their wildly roiling thoughts and fears. Accepting the futility of making anything of the evening they tacitly agreed to try to get some sleep, hoping that emotional exhaustion would overpower their nerves and deliver them through the night.

As they got into bed there were a few aborted attempts at intimacy, but both were wound so tightly that they couldn’t seem to gain any momentum. In the end, they lay silently side by side, only their shoulders and hips touching as they stared at the softly illuminated ceiling, both telling themselves that they must be quiet so as not to wake the (surely) sleeping other.

It was Yang who broke the silence, never one to be able to keep her own counsel when she was agitated and someone else was within earshot. “Hey, you awake?” she asked.

“Yeah,” came the immediate reply.

“Can’t sleep either?”

“No.”

“Thinking about tomorrow?”

“I guess. Mostly.”

Curious, Yang rolled on her side to look at Blake. Even in the dim light she could see tension along her sharp jawline and sadness in her lovely golden eyes, but couldn’t begin to grasp at what was going through her mind. She was reminded yet again how little she knew about this person who had become so important to her in such a short amount of time. While Yang had learned so much about who Blake fundamentally was, so much of her past, of who she had been before they met, remained a mystery. This restarted the internal battle between her need to know and her desire to respect Blake’s obvious and sensitive boundaries, and she was concerned at how the tide was turning. “Blake. I... can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she responded, hesitance and fear draped thickly over the single syllable.

“I just... Why you? Why does it have to be you who does this?” Yang wanted to retract the words the instant left her mouth, certain that Blake would withdraw at such obvious probing. For a moment silence built between them, but before it could form a wall it was torn down.

“I guess... because there’s no one else. I mean now that you know that lives are at stake could you let this go?” Blake asked, turning the question back at her but failing to entirely deter her curiosity.

“No, but I also don’t understand why someone else can’t handle this. Like the police.”

“I went to them, actually, back when I got wind of all of this,” Blake said, shifting on to her side so she could look at Yang as she spoke. “I tried to tell them but they said I didn’t have enough proof to justify an investigation.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You are preaching to the choir.”

“Still though, I just-“

“Yang. Please don’t,” Blake asked, pleading with her eyes for the questions to stop before they entered areas best left unexamined.

That was all it took for Yang to pull back before she could make the leap from asking to prying. She still wanted to know so much, everything really, about Blake, but some boundaries shouldn’t be breached by force. So she would wait and hope that someday those walls would come down of their own accord. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just really scared that you’re going to get hurt.”

Blake reached out to stroke her cheek, touched at the concern. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on it,” she said, her tone soft. More distantly she added, “But I will do what’s necessary. What’s my life worth compared to the hundreds, or thousands, who could be hurt if I don’t?”

“Everything.”

“Exactly-” she said, stopping herself when she processed what had actually been said. “Wait, what?”

“To me?” Yang said, her voice quivering with barely contained emotion. “It’s worth everything."

Blake was speechless; she racked her brain for a response but came up empty. What could she possibly say in the face of such raw emotion that would even approach adequacy? When she saw the first tear spill from a lilac eye she let go of her attempts to find words that she could clearly see were no longer necessary and instead simply reached over and pulled Yang to her, gasping as two strong arms wrapped around her so tightly in response she feared her ribs might crack. For the rest of the night, they abandoned words entirely, letting touch and tears and ragged breath tell the tale of the stormy emotions they found they could no longer contain. Like two sailors lost at sea they clung to one another desperately, hoping that if they held on tightly enough they might live to see the skies clear and reveal the shining light of a safe harbor on the horizon.

\--

“Come on sunflower, time to get up,” Blake said softly. She wasn’t sure how long they had been asleep but the angle of the sun through the blinds indicated that a significant portion of the morning had passed them by. Though her scroll wasn’t too far away she had awoken in a tangled mass of limbs that made it nearly impossible for her to move let alone get up to check the time. Despite her deep and rhythmic breathing, Yang had a grasp on her waist that could restrain a bull elephant, and after a few minutes of wriggling, Blake had accepted that the only way to get out of bed was to wake her. Gently, if possible.

Eventually, her cajoling paid off, and as the steady breathing gradually accelerated Yang’s grasp loosened enough for Blake to pry herself free. After confirming that they had slept far later than intended she made her way to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove, needing tea both to wake up as well as to calm her jittery nerves. Shielding her eyes from the bright morning light she looked out the window over her still-quiet neighborhood. It seemed that everyone else had also decided to sleep in despite the cheery sunshine, though the frost around the corners of her windowpane hinted at why that might be.

Yang sat up with a start when the kettle began its low whistle, finally fully awake. Blake smiled fondly as she watched her look around and rub her eyes, mind clearly still doing its best to rid itself of the fog of sleep. “Good morning,” she said to the groggy woman.

“Good morning,” Yang mumbled, yawning. “Did you call my sunflower just now or was I dreaming?”

Blake laughed sheepishly, “I may have. I was having trouble waking you up. Tea?”

“Please,” Yang said, her dazzling smile putting the sun itself to shame as far as Blake was concerned.

The two made their way to the table and sat for a while with their steaming mugs, the silence between them warm and comfortable and not wanting for words to fill it. Blake thought idly how nice it would be if this was all they had planned; sitting quietly or talking about nothing in particular and just having a lazy day together until they tumbled back into bed. Tantalizing as it was, the fantasy was so alien to the perennial workaholic that it scared her as much if not more than her date with the White Fang. Worse, the two disparate fears fed off of each other as it dawned on her exactly how much she stood to lose if her plan backfired. She had spent so long caring little for her own life or safety that the panic rising in her chest caught her entirely unaware. Blake had always been willing to die for what she believed was right, but sitting across the table from her was someone worth living for; someone she was not ready to let go of. Her breath caught in her throat as she wrestled to contain her panic, not wanting it to spill out into the room.

Though Blake typically prided herself in her ability to allow her emotions to pass without leaving an external trace there were still tells. Small ones, it was true, but they were there if one cared to look, and Yang did care. Sleepy as she was, she didn’t miss the slight tension in Blake’s jaw or the subtle twitch of her eyes toward the door as though watching for threats. These and many other minute changes that she might have missed only a month before shone like beacons to her practiced eyes. It wasn’t hard for her to guess what had Blake worked up, but that only stoked her own anxieties. Hoping to do a better job of concealing her feelings she stood up to bring her empty mug to the sink. As she ran the water to rinse her cup she took a deep breath and tried to steady herself as her fears from the night before returned in full force. She reminded herself that it wasn’t her life on the line and that her job was to be strong for Blake, but her dread at the possibility of losing this person she had only just found was nearly overwhelming.

“I suppose we should get moving,” she suggested, not trusting herself enough to turn around. As she waited for a response, head down, Blake crossed the distance between them, silent as a whisper as she so often was. Yang nearly jumped when she felt arms encircling her waist, but let herself relax as a face pressed gently into her back.

“Everything’s going to be ok. I’m going to be ok,” Blake said, her words muffled but firm.

“Shouldn’t I be comforting you? You’re the one taking all of the risks,” Yang said as she felt a deep inhale from somewhere in the mass of her hair.

“Maybe, but I’m not worried knowing I’ll have you watching out for me,” Blake said, gently turning her around so they were face to face. “Shall we?”

Yang nodded her head. She wanted to say no, that they should just bag the whole thing, that they should forget about the White Fang and let the professionals handle it. That they should go on a date and be normal and spend time worrying about what to eat for dinner rather than how to avoid death at the hands of terrorists. That’s what she wanted to say, but looking down at the fierce, determined eyes staring up at her she found she couldn’t bring herself to say any of those things.

“Let’s do it.”

\--

A couple of hours later Yang was parked under an overpass, by her guess less than five minutes down the highway from the building that Blake was approaching, assuming she followed absolutely no traffic laws. She listened intently to the ambient noises coming through her headphones, straining to catch a hint of trouble on the other end of the call. After several minutes of the same, she finally heard the clack of a metal latch followed shortly by the thud of the large door shutting. Clearly, Blake was inside as the closing door coincided with the sounds of the street dropping off, leaving Yang with little to listen to but the clicking of heeled boots on a tile floor.

“Made it,” came a quick whisper. Blake had avoided talking through most of her journey so as to avoid giving away that she was on a call. This left Yang to sit and worry, but there was nothing to be done. They weren’t sure who might be watching the facility and it would be more than a little suspicious if Blake were maintaining a running commentary.

A few minutes later the echoing footfalls that marked Blake’s progress abruptly stopped, and after a brief pause, Yang heard the sound of a key sliding home and opening a well-oiled lock followed by the metal on metal of a padlock opening and being pulled out of position. After the slight whine of door hinges and a beat of silence, Yang heard a single whispered syllable.

“Fuck.”

“Empty?” she asked, receiving only a disappointed grumble in acknowledgment. She couldn't help but be relieved. Even though it was technically a setback, instructions from the White Fang were unlikely to be anything but trouble in Yang's opinion. She heard a clank as the key was tossed in the locker and a louder than necessary slam of the door and replacement of the padlock. Blake obviously did not share Yang’s feelings on the matter. Quite the opposite, as she had been hoping to find something that would give her another chance to gather the evidence she was looking for, consequences be damned.

Yang listened to her stomp her way out of the facility, still somewhat on edge but happy that this part of the plan was nearly complete. She noted the sound of the inner door being yanked open and nearly jumped as she heard Blake speaking, not to her but to someone else.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you.”

The sound of a man’s voice was just audible over the connection, but Yang couldn’t make out any of what he said.

“No, no, it was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Blake said, and after more mumbling went on, “Thanks for the offer but I actually have plans today.”

Even with only half of the conversation to work with Yang did not like where it was going. Unfortunately, she was pretty sure unwanted flirting did not count as an emergency but it still took all of her discipline to restrain herself from riding over there to tell this guy precisely where he could stick his offer. Her imaginings of exactly how she would phrase her instructions were interrupted by Blake’s laugh, obviously forced, at some further remark.

“Let's just say I’ve got someone waiting for me who might be upset if I went around giving out my number to strangers. Sorry, but I really have to go.”

With that, the welcome sound of a second door opening and closing filled Yang’s ears, and hurried steps on a sidewalk followed soon after. Once Blake had gone what she clearly thought was a sufficient distance from the Vault she spoke up.

“Ugh, sorry, I ran into some pretty boy on the way out who clearly thought he had a shot,” she said, keeping her voice down despite being relatively sure she was in the clear.

“Pretty not your type?” Yang sniped, still ruffled.

“Maybe once, but now I prefer true beauties,” Blake replied breezily.

“Well hopefully you don’t run into one of those while we’re still on this call, could get kind of awkward.”

“That’s unlikely, only one I’ve seen in quite some time is currently camped out under the highway a few miles away.”

Yang blushed furiously, embarrassed that she had been fishing for that compliment but enjoying it nonetheless. She cleared her throat as she attempted to get back down to business, “So I take it you aren’t being followed.”

“Not unless it’s by an actual ninja. I’m almost at the train station, should be in the clear.”

“Good, this is how I was hoping this day would go.”

“I would have preferred something to have been in that locker. Now we have to hope they take our bait.”

“They will,” Yang said, unsure if she was hoping she was right or wrong. She listened for a few more minutes as Blake walked up the steps to the train station with all of its attendant noises.

“Ok, on the platform and I can see the train coming. I’m going to head back to the motel, I’ll text you when I get there.”

“Sounds good, I’m going to relocate to a diner nearby. If I don’t hear from you in an hour I’m coming to you.”

“Best cavalry I can think of.”

“Damn straight,” Yang said with a cocky grin. “Be safe.”

“For you? Can do.”

\--

The text came well within the time limit so Yang paid for her coffee and returned to her bike for the trip home. The plan was for Blake to spend most of the afternoon and evening in the grimy motel so there wasn’t much else she could do. Never one to enjoy waiting, Yang gritted her teeth in frustration as she turned over the engine and pulled out into traffic, letting the bracing air drive some of her worries away as she sped through the city. It wasn’t quite enough to allay all of her fears, however, and she briefly considered making for the gym to burn off some of her energy. Before she let that thought carry her away she shook it off, she needed more time to recover before she could train seriously without risk of injury. Home it was.

She arrived to find the house dark and empty. Checking the time she realized Ruby must have just left for her shift and Weiss was likely still out studying. Yang wasn’t particularly thrilled about a quiet night alone, especially when she was so keyed up. Luckily for her, she was rescued by a persistent buzz from her scroll minutes after she walked through the door. Seeing Blake’s picture pop up on the screen she was immediately excited, then reminded herself that she should probably be concerned, given the circumstances. Picking up she did her best to sound appropriately serious, “Hey, didn’t expect a call this evening, everything ok?”

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine,” Blake said hesitantly. “Sorry, this place just kind of gives me the creeps without someone else here. Mind keeping me company for a while?”

“Not at all. What do you want to talk about?” Yang asked as she flopped down on her bed.

“Anything, really,” Blake said. “I just need a distraction.”

Finder herself wanting of the same Yang readily agreed, so for the next few hours they talked about little nothings, studiously avoiding any mention of danger or death or the reason Blake was currently huddled in the corner of a grimy motel room across town. As they chatted Yang reviewed the statuses of the various surveillance equipment they had installed, pleased to see nothing concerning. The last was a grainy feed from a camera overlooking most of the room and the entrance to the apartment. Seeing Blake from such an odd angle, seemingly without her knowing, made her feel oddly voyeuristic. “I can see you,” she said mischievously.

The dark head whipped around to face the camera, a smile spreading slowly across a pixelated face. “Creeper,” Blake said with a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to watch you sleep,” Yang teased.

“Sure you won’t.”

“I mean I may have to check in from time to time...”

“Of course.”

“Just for safety reasons.”

“Naturally,” Blake said, shaking her head and turning back to her laptop. “How’s the picture?”

“Kind of grainy, but given the bandwidth restrictions, I figured it would be. Is it better on the local feed?”

“Crystal clear over here.”

“Is it recording?”

“Yup, I checked when I got here, we’re all good. Don’t worry.”

“Who said I’m worried?” Yang bluffed.

“Your tone, I can tell.”

“Oh? You think you know me or something?”

“You saying I don’t?” Blake retorted, her tone smug and intimate at the same time.

“I...no,” Yang admitted finally, biting her lip as her cheeks grew warm.

The banter eventually dovetailed into another conversation and time regained its flow. They paused while Blake slipped out into the night, Yang waiting with bated breath for a sign that she had escaped the motel unnoticed. After a few tense minutes Blake assured her she had made it back to the nearest train station without incident and they resumed their conversation, carrying on through the entire ride and short walk back to Blake’s apartment. It wasn’t until she had long since locked the door behind her that she caught Yang falling asleep and decided it was time they finally hung up and tried to get some rest.

“No, I’m not sleeping...I was just resting my eyes,” Yang protested when she suggested they call it a night.

“Yang, you are absolutely falling asleep,” Blake chided gently.

“I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

“I am.”

“You promise?”

Blake smiled. Alone in a dark apartment that had never felt like more than a place to rest her head she was struck with the feeling of home; not from the space in which she stood but from the sleepy voice emanating out of her scroll and promising her warmth and safety and so much more. For just a moment, Blake allowed herself to feel like she had a place in the world.

“I promise.”


	18. The Waiting Game

**Blake**

> _Hopefully you’re asleep by now but just thought you should know I made it home. No one followed me._
> 
> _Turns out knowing you’re out there risking your life makes it kind of hard to sleep. Glad you made it home ok._
> 
> _You and me both. Now go to bed, you need to rest that big brain of yours._
> 
> _I’ll try. When am I going to see you?_
> 
> _I’m not sure, this whole charade is going to make it difficult to spend much time at home._
> 
> _Ok, let’s try to find some time soon though._
> 
> _You got it. Goodnight!_
> 
> _Night!_

Yang lay awake, staring at her scroll, wanting to say more but unable to find anything worthwhile. Their new daily routine was already starting to grate on her nerves; she didn’t like waiting around in the best of times and here she was with nothing to do but sit and fret while someone she cared about was putting herself actively in harm’s way every night. Realizing it was no use she closed the screen and rolled over in a huff. She knew sleep wasn’t likely to find her any time soon, but she hoped it might if she lay still enough. It was only when her alarm went off the next morning that she realized it had indeed snuck up on her at some point, though somehow had failed to bring rest along with oblivion. Groaning miserably and shading her face from the cheery morning sun Yang shut off the blaring sound and stumbled out of bed to spend another day with nothing to do but wait.

Awesome.

—

**Yang**

> _Back. This whole sneaking around thing is exhausting._
> 
> _I believe it. Did you get in through your fire escape or something?_
> 
> _Yeah...why?_
> 
> _You really are a ninja. I’m downstairs, let me in!_

Blake reread the last response several times before her sleep-deprived brain managed to comprehend the message. Finally, she put it together and ran downstairs and opened the door to find Yang standing there, blowing into her hands.

“What are you doing here? Also, it’s freezing outside. Why aren’t you wearing gloves?!”

“Nice to see you too!” Yang said brightly, stepping through the door and planting a jaunty kiss on Blake’s cheek. “I haven’t seen you all week and I knew you’d say you were too busy if I asked so I didn’t.”

“Wait, what day is it?” Blake asked.

Yang rolled her eyes, “Saturday. When’s the last time you slept?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t too long ago.”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure,” Yang said, noting the bleary eyes and disheveled state of the woman in front of her. “And your last real meal?”

“Uhhh….”

“Come on, dinner first.”

With that Yang dragged Blake, still dressed from her clandestine trek across the city, out into the night. Given the late hour, she took them to the 24-hour noodle place on the corner where she cajoled the protesting Blake into eating. Once she started her complaints quickly faded as she realized she was absurdly famished and she proceeded to eat multiple bowls and then dessert before she put her hands up in surrender and Yang finally relented. After they paid the bill they made their way back to Blake's apartment, somewhat more slowly for the added weight of a large meal.

“You really didn’t have to come, I can take care of myself,” Blake said as she unlocked her door.

“Excuse me if I don’t totally believe you right now. Also, I didn’t just come for you, I’ve really missed you,” Yang said, blushing lightly but not looking away.

“I’ve missed you too,” Blake said, unable to deny it. “I’m sorry this has consumed me, I just really need this lead to pan out.” As she spoke her eyes drifted toward her laptop, where more searches awaited. She still hadn’t found where the White Fang was coordinating online but she knew it was there, somewhere.

“Oh no you don’t. No more work tonight. Bed, now,” Yang said, noting her wandering gaze.

Seeing that resistance was futile Blake made noncommittal noises of protest but did as she was told. Despite her complaints, the instant her head touched the pillow a wave of exhaustion crashed over her so violently that the room briefly spun around her and her eyelids began involuntarily drooping. As darkness closed in around the edges of her vision a slight shifting of the mattress and an accompanying wave of warmth let her know that she was no longer alone in the bed. That realization awoke another ignored need that shoved her weariness aside with more force than it had imposed itself with in the first place. Not even attempting to fight this new hunger she turned toward Yang and drew her into an urgent embrace, and for a time they were both lost in a tangle of limbs and passion and desire.

“I really did mean to let you sleep,” Yang said guiltily sometime later.

“Yeah well, I had other plans. Pretty sure I can sleep now,” Blake replied languidly.

And she did.

—

When Blake finally awoke it was to the smell of breakfast wafting from her rarely used kitchen. Looking up she was greeted by the sight of a loose blonde ponytail hanging down a shapely back that was rippling with the many muscles apparently required to scramble eggs. Blake was so transfixed by the sight that she could do little but stare silently. When Yang turned around to bring the plates over to the table she laughed at the look on her face.

“Good morning! Sleep well?” she asked.

“Like the dead,” Blake mumbled. “Sorry, can I help you with anything?”

“Nope, just keep enjoying the view,” Yang said smugly as she turned and sauntered back to the kitchen.

Blake scoffed but didn’t look away, contenting herself with trying to memorize every line and curve of the fascinating creature before her. She was so focused on her study that she completely missed it when Yang asked her a question. “Huh? Sorry, I was...”

“Distracted?” Yang added helpfully, obviously quite amused.

“That’s an understatement,” Blake admitted.

“I asked what you were doing for the Solstice.”

“Oh...when is that again?”

Yang rolled her eyes but answered, “Two weeks from now.”

Blake looked at her blankly. “Oh, I don’t know, nothing, I guess.”

“What?! Unacceptable! You can’t do nothing! It’s the Winter Solstice! Eating, drinking, presents, general merriment! Who doesn’t celebrate the Solstice?!” Yang ranted, looking truly shocked.

Blake finally turned away. “Someone who doesn’t have people to celebrate with. Besides, I need to be here, I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

Seeing that she had struck a nerve Yang walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Blake,” she said softly, reaching out to stroke her back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think before I said that.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just not something I’ve really thought about in a long time. Just another day,” Blake said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. The truth was that she had always loved the Winter Solstice as a kid, but that was so long ago she almost couldn’t remember the little girl who used to sneak out of her room to rejoin the festivities late in the night, and long after she was supposed to be asleep until her father would spot her, scoop her up and carry her back to bed as she protested loudly.

“Well, no pressure, but you do have people to celebrate with now. My dad always hosts and we would be happy to have you,” Yang said gently.

“I couldn’t intrude,” Blake protested. “Besides, the White Fang likely won’t be taking a holiday.”

“First of all you would absolutely not be intruding,” Yang insisted. “We always have guests. Weiss has come every year since we tricked her into coming freshman year of college.”

“Wait, you tricked her?”

“Yeah, she still hadn’t admitted to herself that she liked us yet, but we all knew. When we found out she wasn’t going home because she was fighting with her asshole of a father we decided to take matters into our own hands. Ruby was her roommate so she packed her a weekend bag while she was out and then we invited her to grab drinks and told her this dude she was totally crushing on, Neptune, would be there. By the time she figured out we were headed for the airfield it was too late,” Yang said, clearly still proud of the plot.

“So you kidnapped her?”

Yang thought about it for a moment. “Yeah I guess we did,” she said with an unapologetic grin.

“You’re insane,” Blake said, but her smile had returned.

“Probably. Anyway she ended up having a great time and my dad declared her his third daughter, so all’s well that ends well!”

“I hope you don’t intend on kidnapping me,” Blake said dryly.

“Not sure I could if I wanted to, you’d probably disappear the second I turned around,” Yang said, her fading smile somewhat ruining the comedic intent of her quip. “Anyway, you’re more than welcome. Also, even if these guys are staking out your other place we haven’t seen them yet, and would it really be so odd if you went out of town for a few days?”

Blake chewed her lip as she considered this. “I guess not. I don’t know, it just feels weird to be celebrating when I should be working to stop terrorists from, you know, terrorizing,” she said finally as she fumbled to put clothes on, suddenly feeling very exposed.

Yang looked at her, worry etched across her face. “I know this important Blake, but so is rest. And having a life.”

Blake looked up, trying to put a reassuring smile on her face and unsure if she succeeded. “I know, I’ll think about it.”

—

**Yang**

> _Did you get in ok last night? I never heard from you._
> 
> _Gods yes, I’m so sorry! I must have spaced._
> 
> _It’s ok, but I’m worried Blake, you’re spending so much time researching and sneaking around on top of your actual job that I don’t know when you sleep._
> 
> _I sleep, it’s just hard to really rest right now. You know?_
> 
> _I know. Have you thought about my offer?_
> 
> _I still don’t know if I can. I’ll let you know soon, I promise!_
> 
> _Ok, no rush, it’s an open invitation. When am I going to see you?_
> 
> _Honestly, I don’t know._
> 
> _Ok, I guess I’ll see you when I see you._

Blake could feel the disappointment through her screen but had no comfort to offer. It had been nearly two weeks since she had dropped off the key and she had seen no evidence that anyone had come to check out her supposed residence. To make matters worse, every single lead she had dug into on the web had come up empty and she was starting to run out of places to search. Despite everything, despite moving to yet another new kingdom, despite starting at the bottom of another newspaper, tracing sketchy leads, and putting herself directly in the path of violent extremists; despite all of that she had nothing to show for it. Nothing beyond the knowledge that something bad was going to happen and it would be her fault for not stopping it, again.

She tried to shake those thoughts from her head. They lead nowhere good, nowhere she wanted to be, nowhere she could allow herself to wallow with so much on the line. Instead, she blinked her weary eyes and clicked through yet another website.

—

A few days later Blake was making her way across the roof of her building, completing yet another stealthy journey from the motel. She knew that sneaking across the last stretch was probably unnecessary, but on the off chance someone followed her on the train she didn’t want them to know her exact address. Earlier in the night she had hoped the warm front passing through would make her trip slightly more comfortable than it had been of late, but all it did was raise the temperature just high enough that the light snowfall that had started in the afternoon had turned to a miserable drizzle. As she approached the ledge of her building, ready to get inside and work the damp chill from her bones, she peered over the ledge down to her apartment and pulled back sharply. There was an unexpected shape on the fire escape near her window, and a further glance through the darkness confirmed her fear that it was distinctly humanoid. The odd haze created by street lights and rain made it impossible for even Blake’s eyes to make out much more, so she could only assume the worst. While it interfered with her night vision the rain also muffled out most sound, a fact she was grateful for as she crept carefully down the iron stairs and slowly extended her billy club. Just before she came within striking range a stray headlight from the street below flashed across golden locks and she realized that it was Yang sitting outside of her window, staring off into the murky night.

“What are you doing here?” Blake asked, putting away her weapon before it could be seen and stomping down the last few steps.

“Waiting for you, what does it look like?” Yang replied, pretending not to be startled at her sudden appearance.

“How did you get up here?”

“Same as you, I climbed.”

Blake’s frustrated breath came out in a steaming puff. Wordlessly she opened her window and gestured for Yang to follow her inside. She busied herself making a pot of tea and only thought to turn on the light when she saw the difficulty it was giving her uninvited but not entirely unwelcome guest.

“Sorry, habit,” she said, reaching for the light switch.

“No problem. I imagine being able to see in the dark helps with the whole disappearing in the shadows thing,” Yang said, blinking and adjusting to the sudden brightness.

“It certainly doesn’t hurt,” Blake murmured, reaching for a towel and handing it over. “Here, take this, you’re soaked. 

Yang fell silent as she sat at the table and watched Blake fuss about the kitchen, her eyes following every movement while she absentmindedly toweled off her sopping hair. When a steaming mug she hadn’t explicitly asked for was placed firmly before her she nodded her thanks. Even when Blake joined her at the table she simply sat and stared, conflicting emotions etching their battle lines across her face but none of them finding their way past her lips.

“Yang, I’m fine, you don’t need to come check on me like this,” Blake said, hoping to head off the lecture that was coming and failing spectacularly.

“Are you? Are you fine? You’ve stopped letting me know when you make it home,” Yang shot back.

“It’s the same every night, I don’t want to bother you,” she deflected.

“Bother me by telling me you’re alive?! Gods! You’re using yourself as bait for people who you, yourself, have said are extremely dangerous. I think I can spare thirty seconds of my life to find out you aren’t dead,” Yang said, anger and anguish mixing on her face at the possibilities.

“I can take care of myself,” Blake began, equal parts guilty and defensive.

“Is that what you want?” Yang asked quietly.

“What?”

“To be by yourself? I thought we were partners. I thought… I guess I thought a lot of things that I’m starting to realize might not be true,” she said dejectedly.

Blake felt her heartbreaking as numerous responses flooded her mind. She wanted to console Yang, to tell her that of course, she wanted her around; not just to watch her back but in her life. She wanted to tell her so many things, anything to wipe the hurt from her lovely face, but she also wanted so badly to protect her from the danger she had dragged them both into.

“No, Yang, that’s not it. I just don’t want this to consume you too. I…” Blake said, slumping as she realized she could no longer avoid the truth. “Someone showed up at the motel,” she admitted, crestfallen.

“What?! Who? When? How come nothing was on the feed-”

“Yang, please,” Blake said, taking a shuddering breath to collect her thoughts. “Let me explain.” Yang started to say something then thought better of it and gestured impatiently for her to go on. “They didn’t come to my room,” Blake said grimly, “They went to the front desk. That’s why nothing was on our cameras or sensors.”

“Then how do you know?” Yang prompted.

“Three...maybe four days ago. I’m losing track of time,” Blake said, closing her eyes briefly to collect her scattered thoughts. “The manager called me over to the office when he saw me walking to my room. Said two guys showed up, claiming to be cops and asking questions about a faunus who fit my description.”

“You’re just telling me this now?!” Yang exclaimed, barely keeping her voice at a reasonable level. “What did he tell them?”

“Not much,” Blake assured her. “He claims he said nothing at all until they started showing him badges and guns. Then he told them what room I was in, that I keep to myself, come and go at odd hours, pay in cash. He doesn’t know my name so he couldn’t give it to them. He said that made them pretty angry.”

“I’ll bet,” Yang said darkly. “Anything else?”

“He said they were curious if anyone came to visit me, kept asking him over and over if he was sure I always came alone. That made me nervous, but either he didn’t see you on the first day or he covered for us,” Blake said, her face falling as she added, “Or he lied to me.”

“Blake-”

“Yang, I can’t let you get hurt, I can’t. The thought of them finding out about you and showing up at your house and-”

“Blake, that’s not going to happen

“I’m just trying to protect you.”

She realized immediately and yet far too late that this was exactly the wrong thing to say. For a moment Yang’s lovely eyes were so full of anger they seemed to flash from lilac to red, then the anger was replaced by hurt and sadness. “Blake, I’m already in this, and we’re supposed to be protecting each other.”

“No, I know, you’re right-” Blake began.

“Do you? Do you know? Because it really seems like you’re trying to take this all on yourself and cut me out.”

“I’m not, I swear,” she replied, her voice quavering with barely contained emotion. “I’m just so afraid that I’ll miss something or mess up and you or someone else will get hurt and it will be my fault.”

“Your fault that some terrorists are doing awful shit and the authorities apparently can’t get their act together enough to fix it?” Yang asked incredulously.

“Yes! I have the power to do something about it so it would absolutely be on me if I don’t.”

“Why? Why does it have to be you? How are you really linked to all of this?” Yang asked, trying to be gentle but knowing she was heading into dangerous territory.

“I...” Blake began, her mind reeling as she tried to come up with an explanation.

Yang saw her panic and realized that if she let her go on whatever came out next would be, at best, a half-truth. “Stop. I get it, you can’t tell me,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Just tell me this: what happens if you succeed?”

Blake cocked her head, startled by the sudden change in direction but equally relieved. “If I succeed?” she asked, trying to find the trap in the question.

“Yes. What happens if you expose their plan, save the day? After the article is written and the parade in your honor is over. What then?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Blake, the way you’re being, it’s not healthy, and I don’t feel like I’m going out on much of a limb in assuming that this is how hard you were pushing yourself before I came along. You’ve said it yourself: you don’t have friends, you don’t see your family anymore, you don’t have a life outside of work and your mission. Don’t argue, I’m not fishing for information here.” Yang said, stifling Blake’s half-hearted protest. “All of these things are easy to see. Fine, you’re dedicated to something important. But what happens after it’s over? Can you even imagine going back to living a normal life at this point? Or will there always be a next crusade?”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Blake said, her shame and guilt giving way to anger, “When, exactly, were you planning on stepping out of the ring for the last time?”

“That’s not fair,” Yang retorted.

“No, it’s not, but neither is any of this. You think I want to throw my life away? You think I like putting everyone around me at risk? Do you think I like being alone?” Blake asked, her frustration growing as her vision was blurred by unwanted tears.

“Like it? No. But I’m worried that you’ve forgotten how to be any other way.” Yang said quietly.

“I can’t stop,” Blake replied simply, her anger fading but not her resolve. “You know I can’t.”

In one smooth motion, Yang was up and hugging her over the back of her chair. “I know. I’m not asking you to. What I am asking is for you to take the time to rest, and to let yourself have a life occasionally. It might remind you what you’re fighting for. Oh, and no more cutting me out. That one’s not a request.”

Blake laughed hoarsely, astounded at the strength and generosity of the woman holding her tight. Turning into the warm embrace and letting the familiar scent she found there soothe her she murmured, “Deal.”

\--

Blake looked at the dozing figure beside her, trying desperately to contain the rush of emotions she felt at the sight of her. She had never much liked the term making love, but was struggling to come up with another way to describe what had just transpired between them. It seemed that their bodies were somewhat ahead of their words, but it was clear that they were both firmly on the same page. For a moment she worried that her thoughts had escaped her lips when Yang stirred as though in response.

“You’re really sexy when you’re pensive,” she said lazily, her eyes mere slits.

“Trying to butter me up?” Blake deadpanned.

“No, just stating a fact,” Yang said, adjusting to get more comfortable and seemingly nodding back off.

“Yang?”

“Hmm?”

“When are you heading home for the Solstice?” Blake asked tentatively.

“Tomorrow.”

“Can I still come?”

“Of course. I already got you a ticket and told my dad you would be there.” Yang said sleepily, not even opening her eyes as she did.

Blake laughed quietly, shaking her head at the presumption. “Of course you did,” she said, smiling to herself as she nestled into a muscled shoulder and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	19. Home for the Holiday

“Blake...Blake, it’s time to wake up.”

The words fell, light as a feather, all the way from the lips of the sun herself down to the secluded and placid pond of Blake’s sleeping mind. Though they made only the slightest disturbance as they alighted on the surface it was enough to start a cascade of ripples that built upon each other until their resonance stirred the waters into proper motion. By the time a gentle kiss landed on her forehead she was well on her way to consciousness, but she allowed herself a few extra moments of feeling warm and safe and protected before she accepted the burden brought by awareness of the world around her.

“Don’t sleep all morning, we’ve got a ship to catch!” Yang said, forgoing her earlier whispers as she noted the sleepy smile on Blake’s face.

“Mhmm, I’m getting up, I’m getting up.”

“You better! I need to head home to pack, come on over as soon as you’re ready,” she said as she rose from the bed and began collecting her scattered clothes.

“When do I need to be there?” Blake asked, stretching luxuriously and struggling to find a sense of urgency.

Yang paused to check the time on her scroll. “If you’re there in an hour that should be fine,” she said as she slid her boots on.

“Sounds good,” Blake said, finally sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, blushing when she noticed Yang had stopped what she was doing to look at her with a small, happy smile on her face. “Don’t get distracted, you need to get moving.”

“I know, I know,” Yang said, shaking her head.

“But come give me a kiss before you go,” Blake said, tilting her head back expectantly.

Yang strode across the room to do as she was asked, and when they finally parted they were both a little more awake and grinning broadly.

“Ok, go before we get distracted and end up late,” Blake chided, shoving her away lightly.

Yang nodded, covering the width of the room in just a few strides and grabbing her jacket as she reached for the door. “See you soon,” she said over her shoulder, the smile on her face enough to warm Blake all the way from her toes to the tips of her ears as she listened to the sound of boots thumping down the stairs to the front door.

Given they would just be gone for a long weekend it didn’t take long for Blake to put together a bag and get out the door, and she was rather pleased with herself when she pulled up to Yang’s place twenty minutes before her deadline. Upon knocking she heard a muffled voice from within the house shout that it was open so she let herself in and was greeted by a whirlwind of frenetic activity. Assuming the speed with which they were scurrying meant their departure was imminent Blake lingered by the door, only realizing several minutes later that for all of their noise and motion they seemed to be making very little progress toward actually leaving. On a different day or in a different setting she likely would have found the unnecessary commotion stressful, but something about it had the rhythm of a practiced slapstick routine and as she found an out-of-the-way place to perch she smiled at the chaos despite herself.

“I’m so glad you’re coming!” Ruby exclaimed for the third or fourth time, wrapping Blake in a quick hug as she scurried through the living room, gone before her guest could do more than chuckle in response. Just when it was starting to look like they were never going to leave Weiss entered the living room with her tidy suitcase, looked at her watch, and announced that they were all going to miss their airship if they didn't depart immediately. This was apparently a customary signal as the two sisters came crashing down the stairs moments later, still zipping up their bags and looking generally scattered but more or less ready to get in the cab that Weiss had already called. As they all started piling out of the house Yang pulled Blake into a quick side hug and planted a kiss firmly on her cheek.

“I’m really glad you decided to come,” she said so only Blake could hear.

“Me too,” Blake replied.

They did, in fact, make their ship, though they were conspicuously the last ones on it. This seemed to irk Weiss considerably and her ire was not helped by the apparent pride that Ruby and Yang took in that fact. Blake hung back, watching the feud that had likely been in a stalemate for years take its course, smiling to herself as the other three playfully bickered all the way to their seats. She was slightly disappointed when Yang was pulled across the aisle to sit with Ruby, but she knew how rare it was for them to have uninterrupted time together and how badly the adorably-close sisters needed it. Besides, half of her bag was filled with books for the weekend so she wasn’t worried about entertaining herself. She sat down next to Weiss, who was busy gazing out the window as the ship slowly ascended, and began looking through her selection.

“I try not to let it, but sometimes seeing them like that makes me regret my relationship with my siblings.”

“Sorry?” Blake said, surprised to be addressed and looking up to see Weiss slowly turning away from the window.

“Oh, I have a sister and a brother," Weiss said by way of explanation. "My sister and I used to be close, but she’s been working her way up in the Atlesian government ever since she abdicated her inheritance. We’re both so busy that we don’t see each other often and when we do it’s not... warm, like those two," she added. “My brother and I have never gotten along, and he basically stopped talking to me as soon as he took on my former role in the family business.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds really tough,” Blake said, cringing at the insufficiency of her words and struggling to process the unexpected vulnerability she was being shown.

“I suppose it is, but I don’t think about it most of the time. Those two over there are my family now, and it’s not like they exclude me. It’s just difficult sometimes to see the bond they have and know it’s not something I’ll ever share with my blood relatives.” Weiss closed her eyes briefly and shook her head, trying to dislodge the morose train of thought. “Do you have any siblings?” she asked finally.

“No,” Blake said, grateful for an easy question that she could answer straightforwardly.

“Hm, only child, I can see that,” Weiss remarked, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh? What gave me away?”

“Just little things here and there. Mostly it’s the way you look kind of mystified when those two start their shenanigans. It's like you’re at a zoo watching exotic animals.”

“You have to admit, they do sometimes act like they belong in a zoo,” Blake said, hazarding an attempt at humor with the unusually friendly Weiss.

She was rewarded with a genuine laugh and the two settled into an easy conversation. Given the constant scrutiny, Blake had come to expect from Weiss it was a welcome reprieve, and she was surprised when the final approach to Patch was announced after what felt like no time at all.

Soon they were striding out of the terminal toward the main exit, Ruby and Yang practically running with childlike exuberance as they burst out through the doors to find a big man waiting at the curb who could not have more obviously been Yang’s father, or less obviously Ruby’s. Despite the discrepancies in resemblance, there was no doubt of the equity of his love when he scooped them both up into a bear hug that had them laughing and complaining of cracked ribs.

“I miss you girls so much when you’re gone!” he said, finally setting them down and looking over their shoulders at the two women following at a more reasonable pace. “Weiss! What are you doing hiding back there? I require hugs from all of my daughters when they come home!”

“It’s nice to see you too Tai,” Weiss said, stepping up and hugging him fondly.

“And this must be Blake! I’ve heard so much about you!” he said when he turned to her.

“It’s really nice to meet you Mr. Xiao Long,” Blake said, extending her hand.

“Mr. Xiao Long? Ugh, am I really that old?”

“Yes!” Ruby and Yang said simultaneously, laughing hysterically at the pained look this drew from their father.

“No one asked you two! And get that out of here,” he said, gently pushing Blake’s hand aside. “While you’re here you’re family. Welcome.”

His embrace was much gentler than the one he had given his daughters but no less sincere. Though he wasn’t quite as large as her father, the brief hug still triggered a strong enough sense memory that Blake was left fighting to keep her composure as he stepped back.

“Thank you so much for having me,” she said, the even tone of her voice a feat of discipline.

“Of course! The more the merrier! Now let’s all get in the car before this traffic cop has an aneurism.”

Tai waved politely at the officer who was very obviously gesturing that they should move along before loading their things into the back of his old SUV. Blake tucked herself in the back with Yang and Ruby while Weiss climbed up in the front alongside Tai. Then they were off, cruising down a small highway for a few minutes before turning onto a country road that wound through the pastoral island. Blake watched silently as the scenery rolled by, listening to the conversation bouncing around the car without knowing if or when she should join in. It was almost like sitting in the audience at a play, it was all so close and real yet so obviously separate from her. As if on cue she felt a warm hand lace its way into hers, and looked up to see Yang smiling at her fondly, reminding her of her place in the group. She hoped her eyes conveyed a fraction of her gratitude to the remarkable woman; so able to read her body language she may as well have been inside her head. Blake supposed that level of familiarity should have worried her on some level but at the moment she couldn’t seem to remember why.

Blake hadn’t been sure what to expect from the Xiao Long home, but as soon as it came into view it made perfect sense. It was a simple structure of two stories, clad in stained wooden timbers, fronted by a neatly kept garden, and surrounded by rolling fields that eventually gave way to a forest. She could easily imagine Yang and Ruby running through those fields as children, climbing trees, playing games, and catching frogs in the ponds or streams that no doubt dotted the landscape.

“It’s good to be home,” Yang said, her eyes distant as she looked out over the past and present simultaneously. Ruby hummed in agreement and they exchanged a look that spoke volumes of their shared experiences in the vibrant acreage. Weiss glanced back subtly at the pair, and Blake caught her small smile in the rearview mirror as they pulled into the dirt and gravel driveway. 

After they’d all poured out of the truck Tai insisted on carrying the bags, grudgingly accepting help from Yang, so Ruby led the others into the house. Weiss had obviously been many times but she tagged along for the grand tour regardless. After passing through the big kitchen with its large wooden dining table and the tidy living room with its well-used fireplace and worn couch she led them upstairs.

“We only have one guest room-” Ruby started.

“Which is mine,” chimed in Weiss.

“But I figured...” Ruby said, trailing off.

“I’m sure I’ll manage to share with Yang,” Blake said dryly.

Ruby giggled as she pointed out the various rooms, leaving Blake at the doorway of Yang’s childhood bedroom right as a thumping noise indicated that their luggage was making its way up the stairs. Tai busied himself delivering Ruby and Weiss’s bags while Yang strode into the room and tossed her bag onto the small bed, gently setting Blake’s down on the desk.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” she said, taking in the room and trying to see it through her guest’s eyes.

“It’s wonderful,” Blake assured her. The room was a treasure trove of Yang’s old things. Photographs and mementos and stuffed animals peaked out of every corner, and she couldn’t wait to explore every nook to see what she could glean from its secrets. Before she could begin her search she was interrupted by a call from downstairs.

“Anyone hungry?”

“Yes!” came the simultaneous reply from multiple rooms, followed by laughter as the four of them frolicked down to the kitchen for the late lunch Tai was busily putting out for them. Blake trailed after the other three, quiet as a shadow as she tried to absorb everything all at once. Unconsciously, she reached out and trailed one hand along the wall, letting the smooth timbers she found there tell the story of decades of inhabitants rubbing away the rough edges in their passing as they guided her to the kitchen. 

She felt privileged to be invited into another piece of Yang’s life, to be allowed to know yet another side of her, and she was determined to learn everything she could. Competing against this urge to observe, however, was the overwhelming hunger inspired by the feeling of home that permeating the air. She hoped she could satisfy both desires as she guiltily stopped her search and allowed herself to drink deeply of the home around her; of its history, its sense of constancy. She had lived in many places, but there was something special about one like this, a place where a family had grown and fought and laughed and cried and loved. Where they had lived. The wall upon which she had laid her fingers hummed with the remembrance of a thousand stories, and she felt some small piece of her resonate in response. For a fleeting moment, she let herself imagine the home was hers, that the memories she felt flowing around her belonged to her, and she to them. She breathed them in and let herself feel full in a way she hadn’t in years.

“If you don’t get in there soon there won’t be any left,” Tai said, gently nudging her towards the table.

“Thanks, I was just taking it all in,” Blake replied, pausing to look at the kindly face before her. He was definitely Yang’s father; he had the same solidity and strength, and though it was fading his hair had clearly once been as golden as his daughter’s. Still, seeing him up close revealed that Yang must have a great deal of her mother in her, even if Blake couldn’t quite square how the woman she had seen in the photograph and this man could make the face she knew so well.

Tai smiled broadly at the brief but obvious scrutiny. “I know, she’s a chip right off the old block, isn’t she?” he said, looking at his eldest daughter. “Once we’ve eaten I’ll pull out some old photos and tell embarrassing childhood stories about her, how does that sound?” he asked with a conspiratorial wink.

“I heard that Dad!” Yang said, a roll halfway in her mouth and a look of playful indignation in her eyes.

“Yeah, tell stories about Yang!” Ruby laughed.

“And Ruby, those tend to be the good ones,” Weiss added.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied.

Blake sat down as the girls bickered and Tai took his seat, still unsure as to where exactly she fit, but growing more confident that there was space set aside for her. A covert squeeze of her hand under the table from Yang assured her of this and she soon found herself lulled into a sense of belonging.

After they had eaten well beyond necessity, as most holidays require, they retired to the living room and sprawled out across various pieces of furniture while Tai went searching for the aforementioned photographs. Blake fought to stay awake as she was enveloped by a sumptuous couch that was likely older than her and was just barely saved by Tai returning with a stack of mismatched albums bursting with pictures. He placed them in front of Blake and took a seat in the big leather chair that had been left vacant for him, nodding encouragingly for her to begin.

She eagerly reached for the first and the others leaned in as she opened it to find a picture of a small blonde girl, no more than two, holding an infant in what must have been a hospital room. The look on her face as she gazed at the tiny pink creature was one of pure adoration, made all the more adorable by the fact that it closely resembled the look Blake had seen on her adult face quite recently as she looked at her far less pink, but no less beloved, little sister. The next was of the two girls with their exhausted parents; their mother, Summer, still in a hospital bed while a younger but unmistakable Tai leaned over her for the picture, beaming.

“Some oldest kids don’t like it when their siblings come along and steal the spotlight, but not Yang,” Tai said fondly, not needing to look at the page to know what it held. “She was so thrilled to have a baby sister that we practically had to pry Ruby from her hands when she needed to be fed.” He chuckled as Yang gave Ruby an affectionate squeeze in the present. Then went on, narrating the pictures as they paged along, telling stories as well worn as the furniture on which they sat and every bit as comfortable. His voice hitched somewhat as they reached the point where Summer stopped appearing in photos, her passing marked by a single picture of the two girls and their father dressed in black and standing beside a grave on the edge of a sharp cliff above a verdant forest. Yang looked to be about five as she stood with her arm around the visibly crying Ruby, both of them leaning up against the legs of their somber father. There was a slight gap in time after that, pictures apparently being a lower priority for a while, but when they picked back up they showed increasingly lanky girls running and playing, doing home science experiments, and competing in various sports. Then came first days of school and exasperated looks from teenagers off to dances or parties but being asked by their severely uncool dad to stand for pictures first. Throughout these later years, there was also the occasional picture of a tall, dark-haired man, one who clearly looked like someone but Blake couldn’t quite place him.

“Oh that’s our Uncle Qrow,” Yang said, pointing him out as they came across a third photo and she noted Blake’s look. “He travels a lot for work but he made a point of stopping in more often after Summer...after it was just the three of us.”

“More like he made a point of teaching you girls a lot of things I’d rather he hadn’t,” Tai said good-naturedly.

“What’s wrong with lessons like ‘rules are for fools’ and ‘it’s only cheating if you get caught’?” Ruby asked, smiling wickedly.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Tai said. “Anyway, while Blake finishes looking through our past, how’s everyone doing in the present?”

Obviously excited to share, Ruby launched into a lengthy, and at times overly-detailed, description of how her studies and work in the hospital were going. Midway through a story about a surgery she had observed she finally noticed the exaggerated gagging noises coming from Yang and realized that she maybe didn’t need to describe it quite so viscerally and simply summed up by saying things were going well and all of the attendings were very impressed with her work.

“That’s my girl!” Tai said proudly.

Weiss jumped in next, and Tai seemed no less invested in her update, beaming with pride at his chosen third daughter as she talked about her studies. He seemed amazed that she was on track to graduate at the end of the year despite her dual degree program and added that he couldn’t wait to have family gatherings at her place once she had become the youngest CEO in history. Weiss demurred but was obviously enjoying his doting. Blake didn’t know Jacques Schnee personally but had heard enough to know that Tai was probably the only source of positive fatherly attention Weiss had ever had in her life.

“Oh hold on, Yang and Blake can fill me in when I get back!” he said, going back to the kitchen and shuffling some papers on the counter. While they waited Blake came across what must have been Yang’s prom photo, as she was about seventeen and wearing a long gown with a rather low neckline.

“Oh man, yeah, Dad had a fit when I picked that one out,” Yang said, leaning over Blake’s shoulder and seeing the picture.

“Can’t imagine why. Was your date able to make eye contact at any point?”

Yang laughed, shaking her head, “The whole date thing didn’t work out for me, I just went with a bunch of my friends.”

Before Blake could press further Tai returned, holding a sheet of paper and beaming as he handed it to the girls. Looking down he added, “Gods I hated that dress.”

“Yes Dad, I know,” Yang replied. “What did you bring us?”

“The article that Blake wrote! Is that how you two met?”

Blake smiled and nodded, but otherwise looked to Yang to follow her lead, knowing this was sensitive territory.

“Yeah, she was so amazed by my brilliance that she demanded I go on a date with her,” Yang said, hardly able to keep a straight face.

“That is not how that happened!” Blake retorted.

“It absolutely is!”

“Ok, ok, we can get to the bottom of that later,” Tai said, playing peacekeeper. “For now tell me more about the article. Yang, it sounds like your work is going well!”

“I mean, I guess...” she began, faltering. Blake almost stepped in but knew it wasn’t her place. Instead, she put her hand in Yang’s and gave it a reassuring squeeze until she continued, “It is, mostly. I have some obstacles that I’m still working on but the mechanical nervous system of the prosthetic is coming along really well.”

“I’m so proud of you Yang. This work could help a lot of people.”

“If I can fix the problems,” she responded, clearly still upset by her roadblock.

“You will kiddo, there’s nothing my girls can’t do,” Tai said softly. Turning to Blake and smiling fondly he went on, “Blake, thank you for writing such an amazing article about my daughter. When Ruby sent me the link I was thrilled. So thrilled, in fact, that I hunted down all of your other articles at the Vale Daily. You have an amazing ability to explain tech to a general audience and really paint a beautiful picture with your words.”

“Oh, thanks Mr... Tai,” she corrected, noting his look at the honorific and adjusting accordingly. “Tech isn’t really my thing but I do my best to understand it all so I can describe it to my readers.”

“Well, you do a wonderful job anyway. What is your thing, if not tech?” Tai asked, genuinely curious.

“Social justice,” Blake answered, surprising herself with the immediacy of her response. It wasn’t until the words were out of her mouth that she realized she had allowed herself a glimmer of hope that there might come a day when her crusade against the White Fang was finished; when she could pursue her goals on her terms without the shadow of her past looming over her. It reminded her of the brief time just after college when she thought she could chart her own course through life. Before reality had come knocking and demanded its due. She fought to regain her train of thought, afraid that if she didn’t the illusion would fade and she wouldn’t be able to find her way back to just being the girl Yang had brought home for the holidays. “I want to work on stories that explore and expose inequities in the world and maybe help end some of them,” she said, adjusting her bow guiltily. As always, telling some form of the truth about herself caused her to feel her lie that much more acutely. “I’m just paying my dues now until I can work my way up.”

“I can’t wait to follow your career Blake, it sounds like you’re going to do great things,” Tai said earnestly. Then he added in a ridiculous stage whisper, “Yang, I think this one’s a keeper.”

“Dad!” Yang cried, fuming as everyone burst out laughing. When she turned to apologize to Blake for her father’s behavior she was momentarily stunned to see her chuckling along with everyone else, which was all it took to immediately cool her temper. All she had wanted from the weekend was to give Blake a chance to relax and unwind, and if it had to be at her expense then so be it. 

The moment passed and soon everyone settled back into sharing updates and telling old stories. While they did Blake continued flipping through the pictures, traveling through the past of the woman who was her present and, she dared to hope, her future. As she neared the end of the last album she came across a faded photo that she soon realized was from before either girl was born. In it were four youths, seemingly in their late teens or just hitting their twenties. Two of them she recognized immediately: Tai was unmistakable with his broad shoulders and shining hair, and Summer looked almost exactly like she had later on as a doctor. Though he had fewer grey hairs than in other photos it was obvious that the tall, brooding boy off to the side was Qrow, but it was the last woman in the photo who truly drew Blake’s attention. Standing next to Qrow the resemblance was obvious, but what caught her breath was the flowing black hair, the shape of her jaw, and her striking red eyes. If she imagined Tai’s coloring overlaid on this woman she could have been Yang’s twin. She looked up and saw confirmation in a familiar pair of eyes, lilac rather than red, and the pieces finally clicked in place. Yang shook her head slightly, now wasn’t the time, and reached to turn the page. Blake took the hint, but not digging into a mystery that was right in front of her went against every instinct she had, both natural and learned.

As she looked up Tai’s eyes flicked away, though he had clearly known what she was looking at. His smile never faltered but it did tighten, just a bit, as he stood up. “Weiss, Ruby,” he said. “Want to help me with dinner?”

“Sure Tai,” Weiss said, following him toward the kitchen.

“But Dad, we just ate!” Ruby moaned, dragging her feet but complying nonetheless.

“Yeah yeah, it’s going to take a while to get things going, so get in here. Hey Yang, why don’t you and Blake go get us some firewood so we can keep things toasty in here, it’s probably going to be a cold night,” he said over his shoulder.

“Ok Dad!” Yang called in response.

Once they were appropriately bundled up and Yang had grabbed a canvas bag for the wood they went out the back door into the quickly darkening evening. Blake was bursting with questions but didn’t know where to start, wanting so badly to know everything but also not wanting to pry where she wasn’t wanted. Luckily for her Yang was one step ahead.

“Yeah, so, now you’ve seen my mom,” she said, eyes scanning the darkening canopy of the forest as they walked toward a covered woodpile.

“I wondered...”

“Why Ruby and I don’t look that much alike? Or why I don’t look anything like Summer?” Yang interjected.

“Yeah. Both of those things.”

Yang nodded, finally looking at Blake, her face red from more than the chill air. “Now you know. Ruby and I are technically half-sisters. My mom, Raven, left right after I was born.”

“Qrow is her brother, isn’t he?”

“Twin.”

Despite the numerous thoughts racing through her mind Blake couldn’t seem to find anything more to say. It certainly explained some of Yang’s fears, namely her worry that those she cared about would abandon her. It also made Blake feel horrible for running out on her own parents, both of whom had been beyond loving and supportive her entire life. Try as she might, she couldn’t come up with any way to reach out to the silent woman next to her and simply listened to the sound of their feet crunching across frosted grass. In the end, it was Yang who broke the silence.

“It’s not something I talk about much, and it’s not something my dad talks about almost ever. I used to want so badly to find her, to learn about her, and by extension myself, but not even my dad knows where she’s been all these years. Hell, I don’t even think Qrow knows where she is, and if he does, he won’t say.”

“Yang, I’m so sorry.”

Yang shrugged, “Thanks, but it’s fine. I look like her, sure, maybe I’m even like her in some ways, who knows?” she trailed off for a moment and, having reached the pile, began loading her bag with pieces of wood. “At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. Summer was my mom, the only one I ever knew.” She wiped her eye casually, pretending it was a speck of dirt and not a stray tear, and added quietly, “But she’s gone too.”

Blake stared mutely, her words abandoning her as she watched Yang loading wood from the pile with practiced ease. Though the sun hadn’t quite set, the forest surrounding them was already wrapped in shadow, contrasting dramatically with the twilit sky. A stray breeze rustled through the barren branches, disturbing a crow enough that it took flight in a flutter of feathers. As it vocally made its displeasure known the same zephyr danced its way across the field and brushed Blake’s cheek with its icy caress, sending a chill down her spine and threatening to set her teeth to chattering. While she hugged herself for warmth and wracked her scattered mind for the right thing to say she watched the muscles in Yang’s jaw tensing and releasing rapidly, every tendon in her neck standing out in response and highlighted by the fading light. She knew she should say something, anything, but before she could recover from the deluge of sensitive information Yang had finished filling her bag. With a soft grunt, she hoisted it over one shoulder and, without a word, set off back toward the house. Completely at a loss, Blake had little choice but to follow and by the time they reached the back door the moment had passed, Yang seemingly having shaken off the painful memories at some point during their return. As they rejoined the others she was all smiles, and while Blake suspected it was at least partially an act, she knew there was nothing to be gained in calling her out. Instead, she did the only thing she could and played along.

Though the actual Solstice wasn’t until the following night Tai had planned a large welcome feast that they enjoyed together around the big wooden table in the kitchen. It was boisterous and loud and full of reminiscing, as family dinners often are, which meant that Blake could mostly sit quietly and listen as the others discussed events from years ago that they had no doubt rehashed the same way the year before and the year before that and would continue to do so for years to come. It was the way families built and reestablished their personal history and mythology and though Blake hadn’t taken part in such a thing in many years she recognized the template and cadence. She found it telling that Weiss participated almost as much as the others; clearly she had been brought into the family fully, if somewhat later than the others. 

Several hours later, bellies full and plates empty and washed, the girls stumbled up the stairs. The wine had been as plentiful as food during the evening so their gaits were several degrees shy of steady, but they all made it safely to their destinations.

“It’s kind of weird having you in my childhood bedroom,” Yang said as they changed for bed.

“Oh yeah?” Blake replied saucily, dallying a bit before putting on the shirt she intended to sleep in.

“You are unbelievable!” Yang said, trying not to enjoy the display too much. “My entire family is barely a wall away.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Blake laughed, definitely tipsy from the uncounted glasses of wine sloshing around in her stomach, but finishing dressing despite her offer only being half in jest.

Yang rolled her eyes as she shut the light off, laying down and patting the mattress beside her, “Let’s go troublemaker, bedtime.”

Blake did not need to be told twice, and she flopped into bed and immediately tucked herself up against the waiting woman, enjoying the feeling of now-familiar arms encircling her as she did.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she murmured, fighting to stay awake.

She lost before she could hear Yang’s reply.


	20. The Solstice

Yang rose with the sun, slowly untangling herself from Blake as she did and doing her best to climb out of bed without waking her. Satisfied that she hadn’t she quickly dressed in warm running gear and padded down the stairs. She paused by the kitchen door when she heard the steady drip of the coffee maker, and poked her head in to find her father sitting and reading the newspaper.

“Morning Firecracker,” he said, looking up from the article he was reading.

“Morning Dad,” she said, stifling a yawn.

“Coffee before your run?”

“Please,” she said as he got up and poured her a mug.

“What’s wrong, couldn’t sleep?”

“No, I slept fine, just wanted to get out and move a little this morning.” The truth was she had barely slept a wink despite the comforting presence of Blake in her arms. Talking about her mother always left Yang agitated, it didn't seem to matter that the wound was two decades old or that she had never even known her in the first place. She just couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she had been found wanting in some way, that she somehow wasn’t enough. Her father had insisted over and over that wasn’t true, but the fear persisted.

As usual, Tai saw through her immediately. “You hadn’t told her before last night, had you?”

“I...” Yang began, fishing for a response that might sneak past and coming up empty. “No.”

Her father reached out and hugged her, comforting her but also making Yang feel guilty for asking that of the one person who was probably hurt worse by Raven’s departure than herself, but needing it all the same. She leaned in and let him support her, just for a moment, and then slowly pushed away and slumped against the counter, picking up her coffee to give her hands something to do.

“It’s good that you told her,” he said.

“Is it?" she asked, looking up from her mug. "I don’t want to be the girl whose mom left. That’s a shitty label.”

“Language,” he chided, seemingly forgetting his daughter was no longer eleven. “And it doesn’t define you Yang, but it does inform who you are. It’s important to let people get to know all of you, especially the good ones,” he said, smiling as he sat back down and picked up his paper. “And she seems like a good one.”

Yang rolled her eyes. “You just met her, Dad.”

“Yeah, but I see how you two look at each other, and I read her article,” he said knowingly. “Also you’ve never brought anyone special home for the Solstice before. Just saying.”

“Gods Dad, I’m going for my run now,” Yang said, fighting a smile that was destroying her attempt at an angry exit.

“Have fun sweetie!” he called after her, completely unperturbed.

Yang stomped out into the early morning sun, her spirits lifting immediately at the smell of frost and the satisfying crunch of a thin dusting of snow underfoot. She took off at a brisk pace, shadow boxing periodically as she went and enjoying the feeling of motion. Running wasn’t as good as fighting for taking her mind off of things, but it was leagues ahead of sitting still. After a few hard miles, she had mostly shaken off her agitation from the night before and was relieved as thoughts of her mother faded, banished by her pounding heart and labored breath. Images of a certain dark-haired faunus curled up in her bed took their place, and she allowed them to coax her back over the rolling hills toward home.

\--

Weiss woke with a start, convinced she had overslept for something important but not quite sure what. As her mind cleared she remembered that there was nowhere she needed to be, nothing to be late for, and she settled her head back into the pillow. The sound of the mattress shifting slightly brought her back up onto her elbow, and she turned to see Ruby curled up beside her. A quick scan of the room with wide eyes revealed that Weiss must have fallen asleep while they were up talking and, not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea, she got up as quickly and gingerly as possible and tiptoed out into the hallway, grateful that Ruby was such a heavy sleeper as she closed the door with an audible click.

Gentle sounds emanating from the kitchen indicated that Tai was up, but since her own door was shut he probably (hopefully!) didn’t know where she had actually spent the night. Not that anything untoward had happened, she reminded herself, but still, her sneaking out of Ruby’s room first thing in the morning didn’t exactly look innocent. As she crept stealthily toward the sanctuary of the guest room she noticed that Yang’s door stood slightly ajar, causing her to pull up short. Knowing she couldn't remain frozen in the hall forever she leaned slowly forward until she could see past the edge door frame. There was no sign of Yang within but Blake’s dark hair was just visible above the edge of the blanket. Weiss breathed a sigh of relief as she began to move on but stopped as a small voice in the back of her head insisted something about the scene was off. Risking another glance she was surprised to see that Blake had worn her signature bow to bed. Though that certainly struck Weiss as a bit eccentric it was hardly worth worrying about and she was just turning to go when the bow twitched and stopped her in her tracks. One last, closer look revealed that the bow itself was actually on the nightstand, and what she had been looking at were two cat-like ears.

Abandoning stealth entirely she ran back to her room and shut the door, only just thinking to do so softly rather than slamming it. As she leaned back against the frame, eyes wide and gasping for breath, a cruel voice in her head repeated the filth she had been raised on. “Faunus are animals,” her father had said, “Not civilized like humans.” And she had believed him, for far too long. The memory still filled Weiss with shame at her complacency with and acceptance of such terrible lies. The days of her heeding them were long past, but it still made her sick that they continued to echo within her. Her past prejudices weren’t the prime cause of her fear, though. She knew there was nothing wrong with Blake being a faunus, what shocked her was that she had gone to such lengths to hide it. From everyone, as far as Weiss could tell.

From Yang?

This gave her pause. She was in bed without her bow, so surely Yang must know, right? Still, though, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what would drive someone to conceal something like that, and what else that person might be hiding. She considered confronting her, or Yang, or both of them, but quickly decided against it. All she had were suppositions; what she needed were facts.

The sound of the front door opening and closing followed by the booming voice of Tai greeting his eldest daughter reminded her that there was probably a better time to do that digging than the present moment. Best to hold her cards close, and not play them until she was absolutely ready. Maybe it was all nothing, it could be that she was seeing things, she certainly wasn't yet fully awake. Or maybe Blake was just trying to avoid the casual discrimination she had no doubt faced her whole life, she reasoned.

Maybe.

Weiss steadied herself and opened her door, intentionally making enough noise to announce her passage. She was met in the hall by Blake, mid-yawn and apparently having just woken up but with her bow firmly in place.

“Sleep well?” she asked as she stretched casually.

“Fine, thank you,” Weiss answered coldly, turning to go downstairs.

“I’m just surprised is all, given that you bunked with Ruby in that tiny bed."

Weiss snapped her head around to look at her, and though her accuser was laughing her eyes seemed to have a hint of a threat in them. Before she could decide if she was imagining things the look was gone and her laughter sounded truly genuine. “You’re not as quiet as you think,” Blake said, slinking toward the stairs without making a sound. Before she disappeared around the corner she turned and threw a wink back at Weiss. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

As she vanished it was difficult for Weiss not to imagine she had meant to add, “if you won’t.”

While Weiss wrestled with hidden meanings Blake sauntered into the kitchen, still pleased with herself at her own performance. Given how soundly she had been sleeping she had only thought she had heard someone creep past her door, but her bluff had definitively proven her suspicion correct. Though she was relatively certain Weiss hadn’t seen anything incriminating, finding the door ajar and her ears exposed had been a shock. The last thing she needed was to deal with that revelation coming up in the middle of what was supposed to be a joyous celebration. Yang would likely try to cover for her but it would undoubtedly lead to more difficult questions and unwanted conflict.

Fortunately, the Ice Queen’s sense of propriety was easily pricked, and Blake was certain that if she had seen anything it would stay between them, at least for the time being. With any luck, it would remain that way indefinitely. She added it to her list of things to deal with eventually and then shook it off and did her best to focus on being present. The smell of coffee, as she entered the kitchen, was disheartening, but just as she was bracing herself for the bitter bean water a whistle caught her ear. It stopped when a very sweaty Yang pulled a kettle from the stove and poured a mug full of the hot water over a teabag.

“Good morning Blake, how did you sleep?” Tai asked, looking up from his newspaper.

“Wonderfully, thank you.”

“Black tea, there’s cream in the fridge,” Yang said, placing the warm mug into Blake’s hands and pecking her on the cheek.

“You are the best person ever. But you kind of stink,” she said as she wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going to go shower, enjoy your tea,” Yang said with a laugh as she walked back toward the stairs. “Morning Weiss!” she called out cheerily as the two passed each other.

“Morning,” Weiss said, trying to keep her face neutral despite her pale skin being noticeably rosy.

Blake watched her closely, noting the eternally perfect posture and royal gait as well as the refusal to make eye contact with anyone. She very intently poured herself a cup of coffee and finally accepted that she had to acknowledge others as she turned to find a seat at the table.

“Good morning Weiss, paper?” Tai asked, handing it to her before she responded.

“Good morning, and yes, thank you,” she replied, promptly burying herself in the pages.

After a few moments where the only sounds were the turning of pages and the occasional sipping of hot beverages, Tai looked up, abashed.

“I’m so sorry Blake, I’m not used to anyone else being down here in the morning. It’s usually just me and Weiss and our papers. Would you like one, or maybe a magazine, or...?”

“No, that’s fine, I tend to avoid newspapers on holidays, too much like work. I’ll just go grab a book,” she said, smiling as she got up to fetch one.

“Ha, fair enough!” he replied, returning to his reading.

Almost an hour later Yang strolled into the kitchen, hair wrapped in a towel. “Oh no, now there are three of you!” she said, pouring herself some coffee and sitting down with a look of disgust at the silently-reading trio.

“You mean three literate people in this house?” Weiss said without looking up.

“Ouch, cut me to the quick with that one,” Yang said, smiling as she took a drink.

“So is there any hot water left for the rest of us?” Tai asked, looking at her toweled head dubiously.

“Some, probably. Look I have a lot of hair ok? Also, that new shower is amazing. So really this is your fault.”

“Uh-huh. My fault. Got it,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, glad you appreciate my craftsmanship, I guess.”

Ruby chose that moment to stagger in, looking like sleep was a concept she only understood in the abstract.

“Mornin’ sis! You’re looking positively chipper this morning,” Yang said, smiling brightly as Ruby scowled in response and swatted ineffectually at her.

“Coffee,” she moaned, and Tai jumped up to provide it before guiding her to an empty chair.

“So it seems that med school has not gotten any easier since your mom went through it,” he said brightly.

Ruby shook her head, holding on to her coffee like her life, or at least her consciousness, depended on it. Tai patted her on the head knowingly and returned to his seat.

“Well girls, once Ruby has rejoined the land of the living,” Tai began, pausing as Ruby tried to interject with an incoherent mumble. “what do you want to do with our morning? I’ll need all hands on deck to prep dinner for tonight but until then we can do whatever you want. Thoughts?”

Yang, by far the most awake of the group, chimed in first, “It’s a beautiful day, how about a hike?”

“Didn’t you just go for a run?” Weiss asked incredulously.

“Yup! That’s how I know it’s nice out,” she replied cheerily.

Other suggestions were bandied about but in the end, they all agreed a walk and some fresh air might do them all some good. Blake, however, wasn’t thrilled. She had packed in a hurry and certainly hadn’t planned on traipsing through a snowy forest. Infuriatingly, Weiss claimed to have anticipated it as a possibility as they went upstairs to change.

Back in Yang’s room, Blake looked dubiously through her bag, knowing full well she had nothing appropriate but not sure what to do.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Yang said when she saw the look on her face. After digging through her dresser for a moment she came up with several articles of clothing, all of them well-worn and definitely too big but quite warm looking. “This should be enough layers, let me know if you want more.”

Although she was swimming in most of the things she was handed she enjoyed the act of wrapping herself in the heavy and faded garments. Each piece smelled distinctly of its owner, and Blake found herself marvelously cozy and content as they enveloped her. Looping the belt Yang handed her through the oversized jeans she managed to cinch them high on her waist, pulling the pant legs up far enough that she most likely wouldn’t trip.

Yang smirked as she examined her handiwork, “Not necessarily the most stylish look I’ve seen you in, but you pull it off.”

Blake rolled her eyes and they made their way downstairs to the mudroom where she was offered a pair of Ruby’s old boots that, mercifully, fit properly. A moment later they were joined by the others. Ruby and Tai sported clothing similar to Yang’s; sturdy, practical, and battered from more than one hard day’s work. Weiss, meanwhile, looked like a model from an outdoor magazine, her high-tech thermal gear immaculate and perfectly coordinated.

The air was cold enough that Blake’s breath caught when they first stepped outside, but between her many layers and the meager but noticeable warmth from the shining sun she found that she agreed with Yang’s assessment; it was a perfect day to be outside.

“How do you feel about hiking out to see mom?” Ruby asked.

Yang thought about this briefly. “Sure, yeah. I’d like that,” she said, covering the slight hesitation in her voice with an encouraging smile.

Ruby cheered and led the way toward the line of trees behind the house, heading for a trail she, Yang, and their father had traversed countless times.

As she pulled ahead, Weiss close behind, Blake caught up with the brooding Yang. Gently she reached out and let their hands thread together, not wanting to intrude but offering what comfort she could.

“Sorry to drag you out to my mom’s grave, I know that’s not exactly the cheeriest holiday celebration,” Yang said quietly.

“Oh, hey, no,” Blake replied immediately. “I’m here to spend time with you. That’s not why you hesitated before, is it?”

“No, no, it’s not,” Yang assured her. “I’m just in a weird space after talking about, you know, my past, last night,” she said, haltingly.

“That’s fair. Are you going to be ok?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she said. “It really will be good to stop by, it’s been too long.”

Seeing Yang perk up and not wanting to be conspicuous Blake let their hands part, enjoying the lingering warmth in her palm as they did. When the group reached the woods they strung out into a line, the trail too narrow for all of them to walk together. Ruby continued to lead, clearly invigorated by the crisp air, followed closely by Yang and Weiss who had fallen into a quiet conversation. This left Blake and Tai to bring up the rear.

For several minutes they simply walked in easy silence, the sound of their footfalls and breathing mixing with the receding voices of the girls ahead was their only accompaniment. Just when she thought she would have the next few hours to let her mind wander freely Blake was drawn back to her immediate surroundings by Tai’s friendly voice.

“So Blake, tell me about yourself,” he said, catching her more than a little off guard with his seemingly innocent question.

“There’s not much to tell,” she said, looking into the trees as though they held a better answer.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“I know my daughter, she wouldn’t spend so much time with someone who wasn’t interesting,” Tai said candidly. “But I guess I started kind of broad. How about this: what makes you happy?”

“Yang,” Blake blurted out, freezing up in embarrassment.

Tai’s booming laugh unstuck her and she took a few quick steps to catch up. “I knew I liked you! But seriously, there must be something else.”

Blake thought. Books? No, too impersonal. Equality, justice? Too big, too heavy, and too likely to lead to more questions. “The truth,” she said finally, unsure of where the response had come from or how it would land.

Tai considered this silently, taking his time as he mulled over her answer. Right as she thought she needed to explain or say something else he spoke up. “The truth is a tricky thing, it can wound as easily as it can heal. Easier sometimes,” he said, as much to himself as to her. “I guess you’re in the right line of work though,” he added.

“I’d rather be hurt by the truth than comforted by a lie,” Blake said.

“Fair enough,” Tai said, weighing his next words carefully. “But if that’s how you feel you should probably practice what you preach.”

Blake was dumbstruck by his sudden gravity. “I...I’m sorry?”

Tai grimaced, not enjoying the discomfort he was causing but knowing he had to say something. “Does Yang know that you’re a faunus?”

“That I...what?” Blake hissed, looking around quickly to ensure the others were out of earshot.

Tai smiled sadly. “Blake, I may be old but I’m not blind. When I was younger it was common for faunus who could pass as humans to do so, and the old ‘bow to hide the ears’ trick was used a lot. Also, after you'd had a few glasses of wine last night you forgot to keep them still, they kept twitching toward Yang whenever she spoke,” he said with a gentle pat on her slumping shoulder. “I had hoped that times had changed and no one had to hide who they were anymore, I’m sad to see I was wrong.”

Blake shook her head miserably, “You aren’t, they have...mostly. In Vale at least. I’m just...it’s necessary for me.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Tai prodded gently.

“Yes, she knows,” she assured him. “But the others don’t.”

“Have you told her why?”

Blake was beginning to see where Yang’s preternatural ability to understand her came from, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled at the revelation as it meant that lying wasn’t a viable way out of the corner she found herself in. “No, not yet,” she said quietly.

“Hm, a partial truth then,” he said as they ambled along. “One with nice, jagged edges no doubt.” 

Blake simply nodded, unable to do justice to the agony she felt at keeping her secret and almost wishing he would demand the truth on the spot. 

But demands didn’t seem to be Tai’s style. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her,” he said. “But in exchange, I’m going to give you some fatherly advice.”

“Oh, I-”

“Didn’t ask? Don’t need it?” Tai supplied, his smile returning and lighting up not only his features but somehow the forest around them. Like father, like daughter, Blake thought as he continued, “Being given despite being unwanted and unneeded by the recipient is one of the hallmarks of fatherly advice.”

Blake shook her head as his infectious smile started to get to her. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice then.”

“You do not,” he said with a wink, then grew more serious. “First, and most importantly: do what you need to to stay safe. You have every right to hide things to protect yourself; don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. That said, if you’re withholding the full truth with the intent of protecting Yang, don’t.”

“What if I tell her...what if she finds out who I really am and hates me?” Blake said, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

“She already knows who you are.”

“But-”

“Unless you’re the best actress on Remnant she knows everything that matters. My daughter has a knack for reading people.”

“Seems to be genetic,” Blake remarked wryly.

“Ha! Guilty, I suppose,” Tai replied, his smile fading after a moment. “Tell her, Blake,” he said, shaking off her objections before they could take shape. “The longer you wait the more painful it will be, and the more you risk her finding out on her own. Speaking from experience, that would be far worse than if she hears it from you.”

Blake trudged along silently, her mind awash in warring emotions, not the least of which was the sinking feeling that he was right. Yang was constantly finding ways through her defenses, and whether she wanted to admit it or not it was only a matter of time before she breached the final wall. “I’m just so scared,” she said finally, not even attempting to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

Before the first could break free to trail down her cheek she was enveloped in a warm embrace. “I know,” Tai said gently as she cried freely into the canvas of his jacket. “I know you are. But that’s the thing about bravery, it can only exist in the presence of fear.”

“But I’m not brave,” Blake said as she pulled back, wiping her face and avoiding his gaze. “I’m a coward.”

“I doubt that very much,” he replied, waiting for her to finally look up before adding, “and on the off chance that I’m wrong, there’s always time to change.”

Blake took a steadying breath, then leaned for one last quick hug. “Thank you...Tai,” she said, embarrassed that for a brief moment the word ‘dad’ had briefly flashed through her mind. “For everything.”

“Any time, Blake,” he replied, not letting on that he had noticed her near miss. “No go on and catch up with the others,” he said as his usual cheer returned. “I’ve pestered you enough for one day and these old bones can’t keep up with a young'un like you all day.”

Blake smiled and shook her head at the obvious lie from the hardy man but turned and did as she was told, picking up her pace and closing in on the girls ahead.

\--

“Yang?” Weiss asked, working up her courage as she looked around and saw they were momentarily alone. “How well would you say you know Blake?”

Yang glanced over at her curiously. “I don’t know, pretty well, why?” she asked.

“No reason,” Weiss said, momentarily faltering. “It just seems like things are getting serious rather quickly.”

“I wouldn’t say things are getting that serious,” Yang began, but Weiss jumped in.

“But she’s here. For the Solstice. You’ve never brought anyone you’ve dated to this.”

“So?”

“So, I’m just worried, is all.”

Yang shook her head. “Weiss, I’m fine. Things are still new and developing, and I just want to see where it goes, you know?”

“Yeah, no, I know,” Weiss said, losing steam.

“Besides, I’ve got you and Ruby watching out for me, so what do I have to worry about?” Yang finished with her familiar jaunty wink, and Weiss found herself completely disarmed. Either Yang didn’t know Blake was a faunus or she did and she was keeping it a secret. If the former she couldn’t bring herself to break that news during such a happy time and if the latter she didn’t want to start a fight about prying where she wasn’t welcome. Weiss knew she was beaten, at least for the moment. Her time would come; she just needed to be patient.

“You two are awfully quiet, everything ok?” Blake said, appearing so suddenly and unexpectedly that Weiss nearly jumped out of her stylish-yet-practical boots.

“Where did you come from?!” she cried.

“Oh, Blake does that all the time, she’s super stealthy,” Yang said, taking the sudden appearance in stride as she draped an arm casually over the newcomer’s shoulder. “And everything’s fine, we were just taking in the scenery,” she said, finally answering the initial question.

Blake leaned into her happily as she looked around. “Even though the trees are all bare it really is beautiful out here,” she remarked.

“You should see it in the summer or fall, it’s even better,”

“Guess you’ll have to invite me back then,” Blake said tentatively.

Yang smiled broadly and gave her a squeeze. “Guess so,” she said.

“Ok, I’m going to go find Ruby,” Weiss said, quickly hitting the limit of her tolerance for playing the third wheel. As she jogged ahead they continued their flirting, and while she was truly happy for her friend she couldn’t quite shake her misgivings. She briefly considered discussing the matter with Ruby, but as the thought occurred to her she reached the edge of the forest and immediately banished it. There was no way she could bring it up now, Ruby was already kneeling on the small dusting of snow in front of the small wedge of rock that stood in memorial to her mother; positioned in the clearing near the edge of the cliff. No doubt she was already telling the cold, hard stone stories of her life back in Vale based on her animated gesticulating. Weiss stopped just out of earshot out of respect for the private moment, chewing her lip as she considered bringing up her concerns on the walk back before discarding the notion. The burden was hers to carry until she knew more, no one else’s.

A few minutes later Blake and Yang caught up, both women falling into a respectful silence as they stood watch along with Weiss. Eventually, Ruby turned back and waved, and Yang stepped forward to join her. Blake instinctively took a half step forward as though to follow but Weiss reached out immediately to gently bar her passage, shaking her head slightly. No, the gesture said, some spaces are just for them. Blake knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop on such an intimate space, but she couldn’t exactly help it.

“Hey, mom,” Yang said as she sat down next to her sister. “Long time.”

For a while they sat in silence, Ruby laying her head on Yang’s shoulder as they listened to the wind whistling along the cliff. Sensing that her sister needed a moment alone, the slight woman climbed to her feet. “I love you mom, I’ll see you soon,” Ruby said softly before turning back toward the others.

Yang remained where she was, leaning back on her palms as she regarded the ornately carved slab and the forest below. Blake listened intently to her soft and slightly irregular breathing, and as Ruby reached them and tucked herself under Weiss’s proffered arm Yang began to speak.

“It really has been a while, hasn’t it? I just realized I haven’t been back since last year. Sorry about that,” she said, sniffing conspicuously. “It’s been a busy time in the lab, things are...well they’re going. I don’t know, despite what Dad and Ruby and everyone seem to think I’m not sure if I’m ever going to figure this sh...stuff out,” she said. “I really wish you were here, somehow I think you would have known the answer. You always seemed to know everything, but maybe that’s just because I was five.

“On a brighter note, I met someone.” Blake fought not to visibly perk her ears up at this and blushed as Yang spoke about her. “She’s really amazing, mom. Smart and kind and beautiful and...well, and a lot of things. Ruby and Dad approve, but they like everyone. The real kicker is that even Weiss seems to be coming around, albeit slowly and in a very Weiss sort of way,” she said with a low laugh. “I don’t know, things are kind of...complicated, but I’m hoping she sticks around,” she said as she climbed to her feet, adding mostly to herself, “It would be nice if someone stuck around.”

Blake wanted more than anything to run to her and wrap her arms around her neck and promise that she wasn’t going anywhere, to swear it on her very soul, but she knew she couldn’t. Instead, she held her ground while Yang said goodbye to her mother’s grave, promising to return soon, and slowly strode back toward where they awaited her. As she reached them Tai finally caught up, and with a silent nod, he continued, taking the spot recently vacated by his daughters. Yang followed him with her eyes for a moment before turning back to the silent group of women, her gaze landing on Blake and immediately seeing through her stony mask.

“Why don’t we start heading back? Dad will catch up,” she said to everyone, her eyes never leaving Blake’s.

The others agreed silently and Ruby and Weiss took the lead as they wound their way back to the trail home. When they had pulled a few dozen yards ahead Yang finally broke the silence.

“You heard everything, didn’t you?” she said quietly.

“Yang, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Blake, it’s ok. It’s just that sometimes I forget how good your hearing is.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Guess you caught me though, I kind of like you,” Yang said, not sounding guilty at all as she wrapped her arm around Blake’s waist.

“Guess so,” she replied, relieved that there were no hard feelings. For a while they simply walked in silence, enjoying the heat of one another in the midst of the chilly day. As they did Blake couldn’t help but think about her talk with Tai, and for a heady moment, she considered taking the plunge right there in the forest, but couldn’t bear the thought of ruining the weekend for everyone and pulled herself back at the last moment.

Sensing some portion of her internal struggle Yang looked over at her, “You ok?”

“Yeah…” Blake replied hesitantly.

“Sorry, I know this particular family tradition isn’t exactly the most lighthearted,” Yang said glibly.

“No, I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to bring me,” Blake assured her quickly. "Can I...ask you something?"

"Sure," Yang said slowly.

"How did she die?" Blake said, cringing slightly as she realized her curiosity had again won out over her sensitivity.

"Noticed that there was no actual grave, huh?" Yang said, nodding and keeping her eyes on the trail ahead.

"I suspected as much when it took this long to hike out here, and seeing the stone so far out on the cliff..." Blake said, hoping her apologetic tone softened the interrogation.

Yang sighed, not so much upset as resigned. "She died in a car accident on her way home from a long surgery. She was driving back from the airfield on a winding road along a bluff by the sea. She loved taking that road, said the salty breeze cleared the smell of disinfectant from her nose. It's impossible to know for sure what caused it but the cops said the tire tracks looked like another driver, probably drunk, swerved into her lane and she went off the side of the road avoiding them. They recovered her car a week later, but no body. When he finally accepted they weren't going to find her Dad had that stone made, put it on a wooden sledge, and dragged it out to the cliff where he proposed to her."

"Yang, I am so sorry," Blake said, her mind reeling. Yang didn't respond beyond staring vaguely ahead while her lips pressed into a thin line. Recovering her train of thought and hoping to draw her away to happier memories, Blake risked another question. “What was she like?”

Yang's lips gradually split and turned slowly upward. “She was amazing. Especially looking back and knowing more, she was like, supermom,” she said, love and admiration pouring out of her with every word. “She was usually gone in the morning before we got up, no doubt hours into a surgical case by then. All we knew was that she was busy a lot, but when she got home none of that mattered because she was so present, you know? She must have been exhausted after hours of intense, sometimes life-and-death work but she still laughed and hugged us when we mobbed her at the door and listened to us prattle on about nothing while we climbed all over her. I can’t remember her ever saying ‘not tonight’ or ‘mommy needs to rest’ no matter how ridiculous our requests for her attention were, and man could she bake. Her chocolate chip cookies were to die for.” Yang walked on, smiling to herself as she savored cherished memories.

“She sounds incredible,” Blake said softly.

Yang nodded, her smile fading as her remembrance advanced. “She was. That’s what made it so hard when…”

“When she passed?” Blake offered gently when the pause lingered.

“I mean...yeah, but…no,” Yang said, closing her eyes as the memory that had plagued her for years played out yet again in her mind. “That’s what made it so hard when I found out she wasn’t actually my mom,” she said finally, allowing the words to tumble out before she could pull them back.

“Oh,” Blake said, momentarily stunned as she imagined how painful such a revelation must have been. “When did you...how did you find out?”

“It was maybe a year after my mom...after Summer died,” she said, kicking at a small pile of leaves along the side of the trail. “Uncle Qrow was visiting, and he and my dad were in the kitchen talking while Ruby and I were out playing. I can’t remember if I was hungry or thirsty or what but I thought it would be fun to sneak into the kitchen and get whatever it was without the adults noticing. You know, dumb kid stuff. Anyway, I was waiting outside the door trying to think of a way in when I heard them start to argue. Qrow said something like ‘she has a right to know where her mom is’ and my dad got really mad. I didn’t like it when my dad yelled but I thought Qrow knew where Summer was hiding, that she wasn’t dead after all.

“So I ran into the kitchen, demanding that Qrow tell me where my mommy was, so sure that if we found her we could go back to the way things had been before, back before we were all sad all the time. I’ll never forget the look on either of their faces, never. Before my uncle could even begin to apologize my dad told him to get out, his face was this deep scarlet and his voice was so low that I think Qrow was as scared as I was, and he just bolted. After he was gone my dad just kind of, I don’t know, deflated I guess. He sat down in a chair and called me over, forcing himself to smile to show that he wasn’t mad at me. He picked me up and held me for a while, I think more to comfort himself than me.

“Then he explained that my mom, Summer, wasn’t coming back. That I had misunderstood. Eventually, I asked him to explain enough times that he broke down and told me the truth about Raven, but insisted that I was still Summer’s daughter, that I should never forget that. But all I heard was that no part of me had come from the incredible woman who raised me and that whoever this other woman was who had made me hadn’t even wanted me enough to keep me.

“That was the last my dad mentioned of Raven for more than a decade. Obviously, I peppered him with questions as I grew up, wanting to know where I had come from, but he never budged. He only let Qrow come back around on the condition that he never said anything either, though he started breaking that rule when he thought he could get away with it. It wasn’t until sometime during college, when I was home on break, that I finally got my dad to acknowledge she even existed.

“So I’ve heard bits and pieces; she was brilliant and driven, sarcastic, and quick to anger. Her preferred solution to most obstacles; intellectual, physical, romantic, whatever, was direct and overwhelming force.”

“Some of those sound familiar,” Blake said, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

Yang laughed hollowly, “Yeah, well. I hear she was also cruel, arrogant, and selfish. Prone to petty revenge and long-standing grudges. Oh, and she didn’t care much for motherhood. No one told me that last one, I figured it out on my own.” 

As her words and feet came to a halt Blake turned to face her, wanting to offer comfort but held back by the sheer force of emotion flowing from the tall woman. Instead, she stood silently, listening to the muted sounds of the wintry forest and feeling the wan afternoon sunlight on her face. As the minutes passed she began to think she had misjudged the pause and scrambled for a response, but before she could formulate one her patience paid off.

“It just feels so unfair sometimes. For the first handful of years of my life I got to believe I was the child of this wonderful woman; smart and kind and loving and...perfect. Then she died, and before I even finished grieving I found out that I wasn’t her daughter at all, and my actual mom didn’t even want me!”

“Yang-”

“And all I’m left with are questions,” she said, too lost in her swirling emotions to even acknowledge the interjection. “Who am I? Am I the daughter of the brilliant and loving surgeon, or the spawn of some heartless monster who couldn’t be bothered to stick around? Why didn’t my dad tell me sooner? Why did I have to try to sneak into the stupid kitchen at that exact fucking moment? Why did I ever have to find out?” Tears streamed freely down Yang’s face as questions she usually kept buried deep within herself finally won their bid for freedom and echoed through the air with the force of her anguish, leaving her drained and slumped against the rough bark of the nearest tree. “Why did she leave me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Why?” she whispered, pleading for an answer that she knew would never come.

Blake closed the distance between them, pulling her into a firm embrace and only barely managing to keep both of them standing as she took on most of her weight. “I can’t answer most of your questions Yang, but I do know who you are,” she said, her hand inscribing gentle circles on a broad back. “You’re the most caring and intelligent person I know. You’re brave and selfless, an amazing friend and sister, and have this spark that lights up the world around you. And true, you’re stubborn and foolhardy at times, and definitely have more than a bit of a temper.”

“You can stick to telling me I’m great, you know,” Yang said, surprising herself as the corners of her mouth fought to rise.

“Hush, I’m not done,” Blake said, relieved at the lightening mood.

“Sorry, proceed.”

Blake smiled to herself, glad to see that her words were hitting their mark. “You are all of those things, and so much more. The truth is, I think you’re both Summer’s and Raven’s daughter. Those years you spent with Summer were obviously instrumental in shaping you into the person you are now. She raised you, Yang. She was, without a doubt, your mother.”

Yang stood back, shaking her head. “Yeah, I guess,” she said, uncertainly. “But I don’t see Summer’s other daughter sneaking off to warehouses and beating the shit out of people.”

“True,” Blake allowed. “And maybe that's part of Raven’s legacy, the fighter in you. Is that so bad though? That side of you is also the side that volunteered to risk life and limb to help a complete stranger, without hesitation.”

“I mean yeah. I guess? I don’t know...” Yang said with a shrug.

“Well, I do. Regardless of where the various aspects of who you are came from, I wouldn’t change any of them. Not one bit. And for the record, you are absolutely, unquestionably, so far beyond good enough that I hope you never even consider asking that question again," Blake said ardently before a grin snuck its way onto her lips. "Besides, there is one thing you can be absolutely certain of."

“Oh? What’s that?” Yang asked, her cheeks reddening at the unbridled praise.

“You are one hundred percent your father’s daughter.”

Yang barked out a laugh, the gentle jab landing just as intended. “I can't deny that, embarrassing as it may be most days. Sorry that I left you with him on the trip out, by the way. Did he talk your ear off the entire time?”

“No more than you would have.”

“Hey-” Yang began in protest but stopped when Blake cut her off with a sharp gesture, her eyes wide and bow twitching conspicuously. Almost immediately she relaxed, and after a quick glance at their surroundings picked out a nearby stump settled heavily on it.

“Sorry,” she said, “Your dad is going to catch up with us in a minute. When I heard footsteps I thought it was...I forgot he was behind us.”

Yang watched as she tried to pretend she wasn’t shaking, clearly waiting for her spike of adrenaline to wear off. With no time to ask and a low probability of receiving answers even if she did she decided there was no point in prying. Besides, it wasn’t news that Blake was jumpy and more than a little paranoid at times. Shrugging off her worries and questions Yang sat next to her and waited, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. After listening to the silent forest for a while she eventually noticed the sound of steady footfalls heading their way.

When Tai rounded the corner he looked somber and lost in thought, but when he saw he had an audience he pulled himself up straighter and worked his face into the approximation of a smile. By the time he caught up and greeted the ladies cheerfully it was beginning to look almost genuine. With Tai in tow, they set off again toward the house, eventually catching up to Ruby and Weiss further along the trail and spending the rest of the hike reshuffling into various combinations and talking animatedly with one another. A few hours later the group traipsed back to the house, muddy from the trail, flush from the winter air, and generally in good spirits. 

Leaving as much of their dirty gear as possible by the door the group filed upstairs to clean up before dinner, the girls bickering the whole way about who got to shower first in the bathroom they were sharing. As they finished they trickled one by one back down to the kitchen, and as they did they were all given various assignments from Tai as part of preparations for the big Solstice dinner. Every household had its own traditions around the longest night of the year, but the central themes were usually the same: cook a massive dinner, start a roaring fire, light some candles, stay up late, and then celebrate the sun rising to banish the night. Many gave gifts, most told stories, some took naps in shifts while others challenged each other to stay up the whole night, but the variations were all based around the central theme of celebrating life at a time when cold and darkness and death felt near.

Tai was one to pull out all of the stops for dinner, and soon he had everyone busy chopping, mincing, and skewering more food than Blake had ever seen in one place. No one seemed to mind that she knew next to nothing about cooking, but they did give her very simple and very specific instructions for each task, and someone was usually keeping a casual eye on her as she carried them out.

Afternoon faded to evening as the house was filled with the warmth and smells of the various dishes as well as the chatter of five hungry cooks working on their final touches. As the last few items went in the oven Tai doled out some hot cider he had been mulling on the stovetop and shooed the girls out of the kitchen, assuring them he would manage the rest and let them know when it was time to eat.

Yang and Ruby made a beeline for the large hearth and started building a fire while Blake and Weiss relaxed on the couch and watched them argue about ideal log placement. Though it was unclear who won, they did manage to start a solid blaze before joining the others to bask in its glow. Something about the flames settled the group in a sort of collective trance, all of them sliding into their own thoughts as their eyes drank in the dancing light. It was only when Tai’s call to dinner interrupted the periodic snap and pop of the logs that they realized that time had passed, and they all grinned at each other sheepishly as they shook themselves fully awake and rose to attend to their feast.

And a feast it was. Despite being part of the preparation Blake was still overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of food. Salads and soups and an abundance of roasted vegetables covered the table, with several dozen freshly baked rolls scattered about, all of it surrounding what was possibly the largest turkey she had ever seen in her life. Butter and gravy were on hand for those who wanted, which was everyone, and several pies cooled on the counter.

Blake sat next to Yang and took it all in, savoring the smells and realizing how hungry she was from their excursion. As she reached out for the nearest dish she felt a gentle elbow in her ribs and realized that everyone else was waiting for something. Pulling her hand back rapidly and worrying she had broken some rule she followed the other’s eyes to the head of the table where Tai was smiling, clearly not upset at the breach in etiquette.

“We aren’t exactly a religious household,” he began, explaining for her benefit. “but I like to keep with the spirit of the Solstice and take this time to be grateful. It’s easy to see the longest night of the year as a time of hardship, and while it is important to acknowledge that hardship it’s just as important to remind ourselves of all of the gifts life has given us.

“I’m grateful for a lot of things, but most of all I’m so grateful for all of you: my daughters, the two I raised and the one I didn’t, and to our newest guest who I hope we will see at many more of these dinners in the future. Thank you all for being here tonight, I feel truly blessed.”

“We love you Dad!” Ruby and Yang replied, the former even jumping up to give him a tight squeeze around the neck. Weiss was silent but the look on her face showed how deeply touched she was to be included in their family. Eventually, everyone settled back in their chairs and Tai told them to dig in. No one brooked any arguments and soon they were all passing serving platters around and piling their plates high. Blake, however, found that her appetite had evaporated as her thoughts flew across a vast ocean toward parents who had likely sat for a meal like this one some hours ago, the sun having long since dipped below their horizon. She wondered if they were thinking about their long lost daughter as they sat vigil together through the night.

“Hey, you okay?” Yang asked softly, noticing Blake’s distraction and trying not to draw attention.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to make a quick call. Work stuff,” she said, getting up and making her excuses to the table.

As she rushed from the room she didn’t notice a set of ice-blue eyes tracking her as closely as the lilac ones on the other side of the table, and no one noticed a typically dexterous hand knocking a wine glass askew onto its owner’s skirt.

“Blast!” Blake heard as she departed the room, but she missed the rest as she took the stairs two at a time up to Yang’s room. She was so focused on her sudden urge to reach out that her normally sharp hearing and general paranoia quietly abandoned her as she huddled on Yang’s bed and intently dialed the interkingdom connection line on her scroll.

“Happy Solstice,” came the smooth robotic voice on the far side of the line, “how may I be of service?”

“I’d like to place a call to Menagerie,” Blake said, trying to stop her voice from shaking.

“And who would you like to reach?” it prompted.

“Ghira Belladonna.”

“One moment please,” the voice said, pausing briefly. “You will be connected now, have a pleasant evening.”

She heard a click as the connection was completed and began to ring. Her hand was shaking so badly that she had to brace her elbow against her leg to keep the receiver in place as the ringing continued. In the end, she wasn’t sure if it was relief or anguish that flooded her system when the voicemail prompt played. She briefly considered leaving a message, but what could she possibly say? “Hey Mom and Dad, sorry I haven’t really called in the past decade. What? Oh, yeah, I’m alive. Guess you didn’t know that huh?” The more she thought about it the worse she felt, so after several seconds of silence she simply hung up, defeated. Through her own gasping tears she didn’t notice the light patter of footsteps receding down the hall, but when she heard a door open and shut a moment later it reminded her that she couldn’t hide in that room all night, so she dried her face and reached for her makeup bag, hoping to hide the redness around her eyes.

A few minutes later she returned to her seat, quietly assuring Yang that everything was fine and making a show of joining in the boisterous conversation as she dug in. If anyone else had noticed her absence they kindly pretended not to, and soon even Blake let the incident pass from her thoughts. After filling and emptying their plates multiple times the group finally began to slow to the point that when Tai announced dessert he was met with groans and even a well-aimed dinner roll that would have hit him square in the forehead had he not snatched it deftly out of the air. He laughed at the overfull crowd and took a carefree bite of the projectile, saying they could all go lay around and digest for a while and do dessert later.

The transition to the living room was more akin to rolling than walking but soon they were sprawled across every horizontal surface available. Blake unabashedly lay her head in Yang’s lap as she curled up on one side of the couch while Weiss claimed the other and Ruby simply stretched out on the floor by the fireplace. As they lay, nearly comatose, Tai set about placing and lighting several candles, turning off the lights when he was finished and leaving the room dimly but warmly lit by the flickering flames. Despite the light being more than enough for Blake to see by she still enjoyed the feeling of being wrapped in shadow and let herself be enveloped by it as much as by the couch and the arm that was gently draped across her shoulder. For once the persistent voice in her head telling her to run ceased and the sudden silence left in its absence was so peaceful that she hardly noticed when she drifted off. This left her all the more confused when she was awoken by a gentle nudge on her shoulder.

“Blake. Come on, that’s enough napping,” came a murmur from just above her ear.

“I’m not...what?” she replied to the voice cutting through her dream.

“Yes you are, come on now sleepyhead.”

Blake sat up, blinking her eyes rapidly and looking around. The room was largely unchanged, but the inhabitants looked more alert than she remembered.

“Sorry, I just got really comfy.”

Tai laughed from his big leather chair. “That’s on me, I know how to make a meal that will put anyone into a food coma.”

“You can say that again,” Blake said.

“That’s on me, I know how to make...”

“Gods, Dad, get new jokes!” Ruby moaned, still on the floor but leaning up against the couch by Weiss’s legs.

“Can’t beat the classics,” he said, with a self-satisfied grin. “Hey, why don’t we liven things up around here, maybe work up an appetite for dessert?”

“What did you have in mind?” Yang asked, her hand making lazy circles on Blake’s side that were threatening to put her back to sleep.

“Well, if Weiss were so inclined...” he began, looking over at his third daughter hopefully.

She nodded, smiling knowingly, “Do you still have that old keyboard?”

“Weiss my dear, so long as a musician as talented as yourself continues to grace my home, I will always have something for you to play. This year though, no little keyboards, I found something special.”

With that Tai leaped from his seat and practically skipped to a nearby closet. He opened it up, revealing it to be much larger than Blake had expected, and rolled an upright piano out into the living room.

“She’s not much to look at, but the tuner I had come to take a look at it said it was in remarkable condition,” He said, beaming.

With a flourish he pulled off the dust cover and revealed that he hadn’t been underselling it, the wood had clearly seen some rough days and was covered in scuffs and scratches, though the keyboard still looked to be in good shape. Weiss nearly pounced on the instrument, moving her hands across a few keys and testing the pedals, nodding her approval at what she found.

“Tai, this is amazing! Where did you get it?” she exclaimed, her examination complete.

“A bar in town was just going to throw it out, so I offered to take it off their hands and lugged it back here,” Tai said animatedly. “I thought you would enjoy playing it when you visited and I knew I would enjoy listening to you.”

“So it’s just for me?” Weiss said, her eyes wide as one delicate hand splayed across her heart.

“It’s unlikely that I’m about to take it up and the girls have never shown much musical aptitude, so yes, I got it for you.”

Weiss jumped up and hugged the big man tight around the neck, not an insignificant feat given he was easily a foot taller than her. “Thank you, Tai, I love it.”

“You are very welcome Weiss. I’ll be sure to keep it in good working order for you,” Tai said before gently returning her to the floor.

Once again Blake was impressed with the seemingly prissy girl. Here was someone who had been raised with the best of everything. No doubt she had learned to play on a pristine grand piano that had never known a touch beside her own. Yet faced with an old, beat-up bar piano she saw immediately through the rough exterior to the treasure within, and most importantly to the effort and love that went into procuring it for her. Blake was all too familiar with the cliche about books and covers, but it was so hard not to be fooled by that icy exterior most of the time.

“Any requests?” Weiss asked as she settled down on the wooden bench Tai had placed behind her.

“Nothing specific, surprise us!” Ruby said, leaning forward eagerly.

“Ok, but I’ve been a bit too busy to practice so you’ll have to forgive some mistakes,” she said as she rolled her wrists and worked her fingers in and out a few times.

“Weiss, you are probably the best musician I’ve ever been within earshot of, just play!” Yang said, having none of her friend’s misplaced modesty.

Weiss rolled her eyes but began, and instantly Blake realized that Yang hadn’t been exaggerating. It wasn’t just that her technique was flawless, somehow she imbued the music with so much emotion, so much of her very being, that when it reached her rapt audience it seemed that each note was alive, ringing not only in their ears but deep in their souls in places rarely reached by the outside world. The first song was so hauntingly beautiful that it took Blake several measures to realize she knew it. It was an old traditional Solstice tune, dark and melancholic though still hopeful as they often were, but played in a variation she had never heard before. Just as she was getting her bearings Weiss opened her mouth and sang the first verse, and all thought ceased. If her skills on the piano were incredible her voice was pure magic, and it weaved a spell around them all as she sang of the longest night of the year:

_When summer sun is but a memory,_  
_And autumn leaves depart._  
_In blackest night we sit in reverie,_  
_Gathered round the sacred hearth._

_‘Neath snowy drifts the world is slumb’ring,_  
_The shortest day has gone,_  
_Through eventide we gather, wond’ring,_  
_Will we live to see the dawn?_

As she wound down the morbid verse and danced across the bridge she looked around, trying to get everyone to join in on the chorus. She gave up when she was met with dazed looks, shaking her head but not missing a beat as she sang on alone. The second time it came around everyone was a bit more prepared and able to join in, though no one dared sing loud enough to cover up that ringing voice, not that they could if they tried. As soon as she finished the first song she rolled immediately into the second, one with a more upbeat and romping melody that helped rouse the room a bit. Though the spell was never quite broken, its hold eventually lessened enough that everyone was able to join in as she moved through several more classics, her encyclopedic memory pulling up songs at will and her graceful fingers playing them more than perfectly. She only stopped when Ruby noticed her voice thinning slightly and brought her a glass of water, smiling as she accepted it and getting up to give a small curtsy as her audience applauded enthusiastically.

“So yeah, Weiss is kind of an amazing musician,” Yang murmured to Blake.

“That’s a bit of an understatement. I mean I had heard that she was talented but I always assumed...”

“That her reputation was overblown because her dad is super-rich?” Yang offered.

“Pretty much,” Blake admitted with a shrug.

Yang nodded. “Yeah, we all thought that. Then we heard her play,” she said. Raising her voice she addressed the musician in question. “Hey Weiss, how about some of your originals? You know, the ones you used to perform in those big concerts.”

Weiss looked down, “No, I couldn’t. I haven’t played any of those in years and this isn’t really the time or place or...” Grasping for an excuse she looked to Tai who merely shrugged.

Ruby reached over and put a hand gently on her arm. “Weiss, please? I mean you don’t have to if you really don’t want to, but I think it would be nice.”

Weiss blushed but finally nodded. “I. Okay, let’s see if I remember them.”

It was immediately obvious that she did, to no one’s surprise. Though it had been inconceivable mere moments before her voice somehow sounded even more beautiful as it carried tunes that fit it like a glove. That was the advantage, Blake supposed, of a song written by and for a particular voice. Weiss moved through an unbelievable range, every note pure and sweet, her fingers drawing out wistful chords. Though the songs were all distinct it wasn’t hard for Blake to find a common thread connecting them, and as she did it brought her a new understanding of the multilayered woman’s past. All of the songs, from a time long before she had become the person sitting at the piano today, spoke of unending loneliness, of neglect. They spoke of scorn and control and abuse.

They also spoke of defiance.

Blake was awestruck. These were songs she wrote and likely performed in front of her family, and they were so obviously aimed directly at them. Either her parents were deaf or had simply never bothered to listen or did and eventually punished Weiss for her transgression. Regardless, the brazenness of a girl in that situation to create those songs was incredible and despite having every reason not to, Blake felt herself commiserating with the girl who had everything.

As the final, soulful note faded out Weiss slumped slightly. The emotional exertion of singing those songs, of revisiting that time in her life, seemed to have taken a physical toll on her. She did brighten noticeably at the raucous cheering she received in response, however, and seemed almost fully revitalized when Ruby sprung up and hugged her tightly, thanking her for her performance. Weiss leaned into the embrace, and nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak until the memories she had resurrected had finished draining from her body.

Suspecting that she could use a moment to collect herself, Tai got up and announced it was time for dessert. When he asked for help in serving it and Ruby and Yang quickly offered their assistance. As they left Weiss absentmindedly reached for the keys again, playing a vague melody in a major key, perhaps in an attempt to return her mind to the celebration at hand.

“I had heard you were a singer, but I had no idea you were so talented,” Blake found herself saying. “You’re incredible.”

“I guess I’m just full of surprises,” Weiss replied, somewhat stiffly. Thinking better of her knee-jerk response she let her tone soften. “My dad used to hate those songs.”

“I bet he did.”

“It was difficult, living in a house that never felt like home,” she went on, her musical musing increasing in tempo. “Coming here, seeing their family, it made me realize what I had been missing. It was a big part of why I eventually left home for good.”

“I...didn’t know.”

“I don’t talk about it a lot, but it wasn’t like my father just up and kicked me out for no reason one day. He disowned me because I left, it allowed him to save face and make it look like his decision.” She played on as she spoke, more chaos sneaking into the tune, not quite unpleasant but rapidly approaching unsettling. “What about you Blake?”

“What about me?”

“Why did you leave?” she asked, her hands halting abruptly as she turned her full attention on her target.

Blake’s eyes went wide. “What makes you think I left?”

Weiss smiled sadly. “You never talk about your family, ever. Not even in the past tense. Besides,” she said, turning back to the piano, “I, of all people, know the look of someone who’s running from something.”

She didn’t wait for a response but simply began playing again. Blake was further spared by the arrival of the others laden with pies and whipped cream and various other goodies. She did her best to paste a smile on her face to cover up how shaken she was. Meanwhile, Weiss was laughing and joking as though nothing had happened at all.

The night carried on, the flow of food and drink and laughter eventually sweeping Blake up and carrying her along with it. Board games followed dessert and ended once everyone had their fill of the miniature dramas of victory and defeat that came with them. After venturing out to restock their firewood Tai announced that he was taking a nap and should be woken in a few hours. When this was greeted with booing and teasing he just smiled and told them all they were lucky an old man like him had made it so close to midnight as he walked stiffly up the stairs to his room.

Despite their vocal protests, the girls were all tired as well, and soon after his departure, the room settled into a sleepy silence as everyone lounged and let the crackling fire and dim candlelight lull them. The warmth proved too much for Weiss and Ruby, curled up in Tai’s big chair and sharing a blanket, and they were soon fast asleep.

“Hey,” Yang whispered, her voice drifting softly over Blake’s shoulder as she cuddled up behind her on the couch. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Blake said.

“Really?”

“No,” she admitted after a moment’s hesitation.

She felt Yang’s head bob. Obviously, she had known. “What is it?”

“I,” Blake started, briefly considering lying but finding she simply couldn’t. “I tried to call my parents tonight.”

“Oh,” Yang said, her body tensing in surprise against Blake’s back. “And?”

“They didn’t pick up,” she said simply.

“Did you leave a message?”

Blake laughed humorlessly. “No, how could I? It would be the first time I spoke directly to them in over a decade.”

“Oh, I... I mean I guess I knew that you didn’t speak to them regularly, but I didn’t know...” Yang fumbled.

Blake turned around in her arms and placed a hand on her cheek. “How could you? I’ve never told you. I’m sorry that I’ve been so slow to open up Yang, it’s...”

“Complicated?” Yang offered.

“Yeah, it’s complicated,” Blake agreed despite how vast an understatement it was. “I ran away from home when I was a teenager. My parents were wonderful but we had a fight, the kind that you can’t take back, you know? I said things, terrible things, and then I left. There was a time when maybe I could have gone back, tried to make it up to them, but that time has passed, and now... I guess I’m just worried that it’s too late.”

“Blake,” Yang said, holding her gaze steadily. “it’s never too late. I’m sure your parents love you and would give anything to have you back in their lives.”

“How can you be so sure?" Blake demanded. "After everything I said, after abandoning them when they did nothing but try to protect me, how?”

“Between me and Weiss, I’m well aware that parents aren’t all perfect, but from what you’ve told me your parents love you like my dad loves, well, all of us,” Yang said, her eyes sweeping to encompass the sleeping forms across the room. “I can’t think of anything that man wouldn’t forgive, and I bet your parents feel the same way.”

“I hope so,” Blake said, pressing her face against Yang’s neck, breathing in her soothing scent.

“I know so,” came the reply. “Besides, I’d really like to meet them someday.”

Blake pulled back and looked up at her smiling face. “I have no doubt they’d love you.”

Yang's grin widened. “Of course they would, I’m incredibly lovable.”

Blake felt her vocal cords tighten, the breath in her lungs poised to rush through them and carry the truth of her heart out into Yang’s waiting ears, but her lips and tongue couldn’t find the strength to form the words. They were so close, buoyed by a fluttering in her stomach, but so impossibly far away. Instead, she leaned in and kissed her, deeply, holding her tightly and hoping that the words she couldn’t quite say would somehow bridge the gap between them if only she made it small enough.

“Get a room!” Ruby called sleepily, one eye cracked and a mischievous grin peeking out above the edge of the blanket.

Yang threw a pillow at her little sister, missing wide and setting them both to laughing in the process. Blake hid her face for a moment in Yang’s chest, waiting for the intensity of the interrupted moment to pass. When it had, she kissed Yang again, playfully this time, and was able to laugh along with the others when Ruby reached for the errant pillow and returned fire. Their commotion brought Weiss quite unwillingly back to consciousness, which only made the other three laugh all the harder for her grumpy complaints.

For the next few hours they cycled through periods of chatting and napping, members of the group falling silent at different times only to reawaken and rejoin the continuous flow of conversation at a later point. Shortly before the full dark of night gave way to the grey of predawn Yang got up to wake her father. After yawning and stretching his way into the room he opted to sit by the fire rather than disturb Weiss and Ruby who were still cuddled up in his chair.

“I have a few Solstice gifts to give out if everyone’s awake,” he said after letting the glowing embers warm him for a time, just loud enough that it stirred those who were dozing. When he saw eight mostly-open eyes pointed in his direction he smiled and went on, “Nothing big, but I figured I couldn’t just get something for Weiss.”

He got up and walked over to a cabinet in the corner, producing three relatively small and brightly colored packages. Checking the tags he handed the first to Ruby. She tore at it eagerly to find an old diary under the shining paper and as she paged through it her eyes went wide.

“Dad, is this...?”

“It’s one of your mom’s journals, specifically the one she kept toward the end of medical school. I only just found this one tucked away in a box in the attic this year believe it or not, and it seemed like the perfect time to give it to you.”

Ruby looked at the pages in awe before closing the book gently and hugging it to her chest. “Thank you, Dad, I love it.”

“You are very welcome,” he said, tousling her hair and planting a kiss on her forehead. “Yang, you’re next!”

The package he handed her was slightly larger, and as she opened it up she found a binder full of pages and pages of meticulous notes interspersed with anatomical drawings and printouts of various publications. Yang cocked her head, though some of the drawings were familiar to her at a glance she still felt like a medical research notebook was more Ruby’s speed than hers.

Seeing her confusion Tai explained. “I found this in the same box, it’s your mother’s notes from when she was still working more on basic science than surgery. A great deal of her early work was focused on the study of peripheral nerves. I’m not sure if it’s any help to you or if it’s all out of date, but I think Summer would have wanted you to have it.”

As he explained Yang’s eyes had gone wide, and she began flipping through the pages with renewed interest and shaking her head. “She always had all the answers,” she said, mostly to herself.

Tai smiled and nodded his agreement. “She certainly did.”

“Thanks, Dad. I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” Yang said as she closed the binder gently, almost reverently.

“I’m glad you like it Firecracker,” he said. “And, last but not least, Blake.” 

“Thank you so much, you really didn’t have to,” she said as she accepted the parcel from his outstretched hand.

“Nonsense, you’re in my house for the Solstice so you get a gift. Besides, it’s not much,” he said, waving off her objections.

Blake opened the package carefully, seeing immediately that it was a book and pulling back the paper to reveal the title: “Fairy Tales of Remnant.”

“Yang used to demand we read to her from that every night, and eventually read it to Ruby just as often. That one’s a different copy since she just about loved the original to death.” Tai said as Yang laughed and nodded her head in agreement. “But if you’re curious about the inner workings of Yang’s young mind, that’s a good place to start.”

“This is wonderful,” Blake said, paging through the volume eagerly. “Thank you so much.”

“Thank you, Blake, for being here with us, and for putting that big, goofy smile on my daughter’s face,” he said.

“Dad!” Yang cried as she reached frantically for a pillow and found her mark this time, leaving the whole room in stitches, including Tai.

“Alright alright, everyone calm down. It looks like it’s starting to get a bit brighter out there. Who wants to bundle up and go out and watch the sunrise?”

Despite the chill that awaited them everyone did, so after wrapping themselves in every layer they could find, and Weiss simply winding the blanket she had been snuggled up in all evening around herself several times, they walked out into the grey morning to greet the coming sun. Much as she enjoyed the familiar embrace of darkness Blake had always loved sunrise, and though a snowy field wasn’t quite the same as a cerulean sea, she still felt a thrill as the radiant disk broke the line of the horizon and banished the darkness of the longest night. Hope filled her chest as the morning sun filled her eyes, and before she could worry about the others standing around them she turned and sought Yang’s waiting lips. There she placed a kiss like a promise and told herself that she would renew that promise every chance she got so long as it was welcome.

The others politely ignored them, only Weiss looking askance at the display and even in her case, her eyes held no judgment, simply a hint of jealous longing. When they finally parted everyone took turns hugging one another and wishing each other a happy new day and good health in the coming year.

With the gentle morning light warming their backs the sleepy pack returned to the house where they spent most of the day sleeping. It took so long for everyone to rise that breakfast wasn’t even discussed until it was late enough to be considered an early dinner. Despite sleeping so late, after a scant few hours they all turned in again, hoping to get a full night’s rest before their departure the next morning.

“I feel like I’ve done nothing but sleep all weekend,” Blake said as she sprawled luxuriously on the bed.

“It’s good for you,” Yang said, packing the last of her things in her bag.

“I wasn’t complaining,”

“Good,” she said, looking at the lounging figure fondly. “I’m really glad you came.”

“Me too. Thank you again for inviting me.”

“No need to thank me.”

“There is though.” Blake sat up, not wanting to seem flippant. “You were right, I’ve been pushing too hard these past few weeks, not taking care of myself or spending enough time with the people I care about,” she said, biting her lip and looking away. “I’m not giving up on...all of it.” she went on, still nervous to say too much out loud where others might hear. “But I’m going to try not to let it consume me.”

“And I’ll be there to help you,” Yang said, sitting beside her on the bed.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

\--

They woke the next morning to Yang’s alarm, perhaps not as rested as they could have been but neither upset at having sacrificed a bit of sleep for time alone with the other. As they fished about for their pajamas that had somehow ended up tangled in and around the covers Yang picked up her scroll and started flipping through her notifications. One, in particular, made her pause and look twice before handing the device to Blake.

“What is it?” she asked, taking the scroll and looking at a grainy video.

“Proximity alarm at the motel, I think you just got a letter,” Yang said, her voice low.

Sure enough, as Blake replayed the video a man approached the front door, vaguely familiar despite the low resolution. After looking to either side he bent and pushed something under the door before quickly returning to his car and departing. Yang reached over and flipped to a new tab where a live feed inside the room showed a small white rectangle on the floor.

“When did this happen?” Blake asked.

“Timestamp says just a few minutes ago."

“Well then, looks like it’s back to work,” she said as she deftly tied her bow back in place.

Yang nodded slowly as she forcibly unclenched her jaw. “Yes it does,” she agreed.

Before Blake had a chance to reassure her Tai's booming voice let them all know that they needed to get a move on or they'd miss their flight. A flurry of activity ensued that was a slightly toned-down version of the one that had preceded their trip but still involved more running around than strictly necessary, at least by Blake's reckoning. Regardless, before too long the four of them managed to get out the door with all of their belongings.

“All loaded up?” Tai asked, locking up behind him.

“Yup!” Yang said, tossing her bag in the back seat of his truck. “Let’s hit it!”

“Hold on, hold on,” her dad said, fumbling in his pockets for his scroll. “One picture of my girls before we go!”

“Daaad we’re going to be late!” Ruby called out the side window.

“Only if you sit there arguing with me,”

Ruby sighed dramatically and jumped out, dragging Weiss behind her to stand by Yang.

“Blake, that includes you, get in there!” Tai urged, seeing her standing off to the side and trying to look inconspicuous.

Yang held out her free arm invitingly and Blake hesitated before sliding under it, feeling horribly out of place but also not wanting to be rude. The group smiled and suffered through far more than one shot until Tai was seemingly satisfied. Flipping through the pictures he had just taken he smiled broadly. “You know, I think I like having four daughters,” he remarked without looking up.

“Oh my Gods, Dad!” Yang cried as she processed what he had said.

With a look of shock and outrage on her face, Yang leaned forward to give her grinning father a piece of her mind, just in time for him to bring his scroll up for one more picture. “Gotcha,” he said proudly.

Yang continued to fume impotently at her chuckling father as they all piled into the old truck. While they traveled the winding road to the airport Ruby grabbed Tai’s scroll and happily flipped through the pictures he had taken, sharing her favorites with the others so they could all have them to commemorate the weekend.

One bumpy ride and several hurried hugs and well-wishes later they were racing through the loading area and onto their ship. Blake was tempted to ask how often they boarded in that particular manner but suspected the answer was ‘always’ so instead just laughed at the ridiculous trio.

 _Well, quartet now_ , she thought to herself as she sat next to Yang and took out her scroll to look through the series of photos of the four of them. Blake’s smile was slightly more reserved than the others in most, but the cumulative effect was still one of joy, especially with the scenic rolling hills behind them. When she came to the last picture she fought to cover a laugh as she was met with Yang’s scowl at her father’s ribbing remark. The scene was made even more enjoyable by Ruby and Weiss’s faces, lit up as they were with mirth at the teasing. Blake’s own laughter faded a bit as she caught sight of her own expression, however. A slight redness in her cheeks was the only trace of any embarrassment, and while her small smile was ambiguous on its own when paired with the undisguised warmth in her eyes, pointed obviously over at Yang, she may as well have been holding a sign detailing her feelings. Mortified, Blake quickly swiped back to the prior picture, and not a moment too soon.

“Man, what a bunch of hotties,” Yang said, leaning over her shoulder whistling ridiculously, her earlier anger long forgotten.

Blake rolled her eyes and tucked her scroll away, trying not to encourage the antics but smiling despite herself. “You’re incorrigible.” she said, and cut Yang off before she could interject, “and don’t say you don’t know the meaning of the word because you absolutely do.”

Yang burst out laughing and simply reached in her bag for a magazine, settling in for the journey. Blake was glad for the seating arrangement; though she appreciated the need for the sisters to have time together she enjoyed being close to Yang. Anticipating no complaints she none too subtly raised the armrest between them so she could lean against her strong shoulder while she read her book and took care to nestle into just the right spot, enjoying the hum of pleasure she elicited in the process.

She was also glad to avoid more one-on-one time with Weiss, who always seemed to be digging for something and had a disturbing ability to see straight to the heart of matters that was starting to become worrisome. Fortunately, Weiss was currently deep in conversation with Ruby, leaving Blake to enjoy her time with Yang guilt-free. She was trying to soak up every ounce of relaxation available on the ride, as the small envelope that currently awaited her likely did not portend more to come.

The flight back to Vale and ride to the girl’s house were both uneventful, the best one can ask of most trips, and all too soon Blake was tossing her bag in her car so she could head back to her apartment before continuing to the motel. After the others had gone inside Yang joined her, clearly not wanting her to leave and restart the passage of time that had seemingly halted during their weekend away. “I’m really glad that you came. This weekend,” she said, fumbling the words she said over the ones she didn’t. “It meant a lot to me.”

Blake stood up on her toes and kissed her once, briefly but firmly. “It meant a lot to me, too,” she said, settling back on her heels. “I hope you haven’t forgotten your promise, I’m counting on you to help keep me from going off the deep end now that we’re back, and to watch my back.”

Yang smiled, relieved that she didn’t have to bring it up. “I don’t forget my promises.”

“I know,” Blake said, slowly pulling away and getting into the driver’s seat.

“Be careful,” Yang said before she closed the door.

“I will.”

And then she started her car and pulled out of the driveway, headed for danger while Yang stood and watched her go, hating that she couldn’t go with her. Eventually, she stopped staring at the empty street and trudged inside to wait.


	21. Lost and Found

**Blake**

> _I’m almost at the motel. How are we looking?_
> 
> _Nothing on any of the cameras, all sensors showing the usual chatter from surrounding rooms. You should be good._
> 
> _Great, I’ll let you know when I get there._

Yang bit her nails as she paced around her room, fighting off the horrible images that kept popping up of Blake getting captured or hurt or...

> _Here. Envelope looks like it just has a single sheet of paper in it, nothing else, opening it now._
> 
> _And?_
> 
> _Most of it is dedicated to a rather unsubtle comment about knowing where I live._
> 
> _Suddenly I’m grateful for that shithole of a motel. Anything else?_
> 
> _It looks like they want me to come to a special meeting that’s, get this, at the next champion fight._
> 
> _So just come to my next fight?_
> 
> _Yeah, but there are also instructions on how to get into the restricted area, it’s by invite only._
> 
> _Progress then._
> 
> _Yeah, progress._
> 
> _You going to wait around there?_
> 
> _Just for a little while, I’m not sure this is necessary anymore._
> 
> _I’ll keep the room for the time being; we can monitor it remotely and I’ll just stop by occasionally or as the situation requires._
> 
> _Sounds like a plan to me, means I get to see you more!_
> 
> _Yes it does._

Yang blew out the breath she had been holding and flopped down on her bed. Blake was hardly out of danger but at least she wouldn’t have to go to the meeting entirely without backup. It was enough to ease Yang’s mind a little, though she was grateful that Ruby and Weiss were both busy studying and prepping for the week to come so she didn’t have to make a show of socializing and acting like everything was fine. Instead, she picked up the “Man with Two Souls”, eager to finish her second reading and letting the now-familiar creases on the cover soothe her as she resumed her search for further insight into the slowly emerging inner workings of the one who had lent it to her.

\--

**Weiss**

> _Hey, are you home?_
> 
> _Yeah, why?_
> 
> _I’m on my way back, do you have plans for the evening?_
> 
> _Nope, just hanging around._
> 
> _Perfect, see you soon!_

Yang furrowed her brow as she stared at her scroll, attempting to decipher the deceptively straightforward message. Weiss coming home early on a Tuesday was odd in and of itself but she was being uncharacteristically vague to boot. With Ruby back on days and still working for a few more hours, she wouldn’t be able to ask for help interpreting Weiss’s odd behavior, so she did the only thing she could do: wait until she could ask the woman herself. As it turned out she didn’t have long to wait, as about fifteen minutes later Weiss came through the door, moving cautiously and looking supremely uncomfortable.

“Weiss, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Yang asked, caught somewhere between confusion and concern upon seeing her.

“I’m fine,” Weiss said after taking a steadying breath. “but you should probably sit down.”

“I think I’ll stand,” Yang replied as the agitation that was quickly filling the room wormed its way into her body.

“Whatever you’d prefer,” her friend said, sounding like she was preparing to unwillingly deliver a death sentence. “Yang, how much do you know about Blake?”

“Why do you keep asking me that? What the fuck is this about?!”

Weiss held her hands up, trying to placate the fuming woman and buying time to collect herself. “It’s not a trick question.”

“I know enough,” Yang said, crossing her arms and trying desperately to contain her raging emotions. Failing in her efforts, a look filled her eyes that normally resulted in the target of her fury shrinking in fear and looking for the nearest exit. Instead, Weiss responded with an expression that could not have been more unexpected: pity; and Yang found her rage transmuting into dread. “Weiss, what is it?”

“Did you know she’s a faunus?” she finally asked.

“Is that what this is about? Yes. I know. How do you know?” Yang said, relief flooding her system and restoring her supply of righteous anger. “And why do you care?”

“I don’t care that she’s a faunus; I care that she’s lying about it,” Weiss said delicately.

“So she wears a bow, what’s the big deal?”

“The bow isn’t the problem, Yang, it’s this,” Weiss said as she handed Yang a sheet of paper with a printout of a driver’s license on it. It had Blake’s name and information, and next to the race entry had the abbreviation “hmn”. It was a hotly contested field, one that many faunus were working to abolish, but seeing the lie in black and white unsettled Yang more than she would have expected.

When she saw her point sinking in Weiss reached out and pushed the paper down so she could meet her eyes. “Look, I don’t think that designation should even be on licenses anymore, but lying on legal documents is a crime.”

Yang immediately sprang to the absent woman’s defense. “What, are you going to report her?”

“No, I’m not, but it does beg the question...”

“Why?” Yang finished for her, realizing she was right. Blake wasn’t just covering her ears to avoid stigma on a day to day basis, she was covering up her faunus identity entirely. What else was she covering? She looked back up at Weiss, knowing that she never would have come forward with so little. “You know why, don’t you?” she asked, praying she was wrong. Weiss’s averted gaze told her she was not.

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

“I. Fuck. Well?” Yang prompted, her desire to know overriding her fear of the same.

Weiss took a deep breath. “After you started hanging out with Blake I looked up her articles, read a few, and noticed something odd: her official pieces were the only trace of her on the web. At all. Many people have their online presence largely scrubbed now after the recent series of privacy and the right to be forgotten acts were passed, but it’s hard to erase everything. Harder still if you have a public-facing job, such as writing for a major newspaper, but she has nothing. As far as the web in four kingdoms is concerned, Blake Amaryllis essentially does not exist.”

“Four kingdoms?” Yang interjected.

Weiss shrugged in admission but powered on. “I was curious, so I made some inquiries on the broader CCT net. You know I’m thorough. Are you going to let me finish?” Yang’s protests died on her lips so she continued. “I found her articles from her stint in Vacuo, but her time at Shade is a vacuum other than official transcripts. She went, but other than grades and a diploma there are no records, no pictures, nothing. Furthermore, I can’t find anything at all from before her time there. No high school transcripts, no relatives, no birth certificate. She turned up on Shade’s doorstep nine years ago as a seventeen-year-old with literally no past, took and aced the entrance exam, and then proceeded to leave no sign of her passage thereafter. If I’d never seen Blake with my own eyes I’d say she was a ghost or a person fabricated out of thin air.”

“Well she’s real, so that’s clearly not it,” Yang said flatly.

“No, it’s not,” Weiss agreed.

“You still haven’t answered me. How do you know she’s a faunus?”

“I saw her ears,” she confessed.

“That’s it? All of this because you saw her ears? Fuck! Weiss, you could be putting her at risk. Maybe she’s in witness protection or some shit and you could be blowing all of that!” Yang started pacing, growing increasingly furious at the possibility that this would put Blake in more danger than she was already in.

“Yang, I need you to listen, this is the important part,” Weiss said in a low voice.

Yang stopped mid-stride. Something in that tone spoke of trouble, and not the fun kind. “Tell me,” she said hoarsely.

“I didn’t start doing all this digging just because I saw her ears. I did it because I heard her try to place a call at your house,” Weiss said, swallowing as she recalled stifling a gasp while lurking outside of Yang’s childhood bedroom. “To Ghira Belladonna,” she said finally.

“Who?”

“Think Yang, you must have heard of him when you were in high school. For class if nothing else.”

“Wait,” Yang said, closing her eyes and pressing on her temples as she dredged up a memory from a class she had likely slept through. “The Ghira Belladonna? He’s like, a big deal in the White Fang, isn’t he?”

“Not just a big deal, High Leader. Well, former High Leader before he was replaced by Sienna Khan when it was believed by the organization that he wasn’t...aggressive enough. I'm sure he still has ties with the group but is no longer a member,” Weiss said, not needing to check any records to recall something that had been far more than just a current events assignment for her. The rise of Sienna Khan had marked a parallel rise of attacks against her father’s company. Though she could hardly blame them now that she had the advantage of hindsight, at the time she had hated the impact those attacks had on her home life. Weiss clenched her jaw and banished the painful memories, this was not about her, not right now. “If the records I found are up to date he is currently chieftain of the main village of Menagerie: Kuo Kuana.”

“Ok, I mean that’s weird and all but there could be reasons for her to call...” Yang said, trailing off as she heard her pathetic excuse out loud.

“Yang, I’m sorry but I think the simplest explanation is the correct one,” Weiss said, pulling out one last sheet and holding it to her chest, her graceful fingers trembling as she fought the urge to rip it up into tiny pieces before it’s contents effectively did that to her dear friend’s heart. “Ghira had… has, a daughter. Named Blake,” she said, her tone the sound of the other shoe not so much dropping as plummeting. After she felt Yang had enough time to process what she had said she handed over the printout.

Yang stared dumbly at the grainy photo of a much younger but unmistakable Blake. Based on the date she could have been no more than fifteen and the picture looked to be from a crappy security camera of some sort, but it was definitely her. Above the photo in big bold letters was the word “WANTED” and below was her name, her real name apparently, Blake Belladonna, as well as a physical description that still matched despite the decade that had passed.

“You know, Belladonna really suits her better than-“

“Yang, focus. Keep reading,” Weiss said sternly, only remembering to take some of the edge off of her voice at the last moment.

Yang was so distracted by the overwhelming sensation of her heart attempting to jackhammer its way out of her chest that she hardly noticed the snippy tone. “Right, right.”

The list of Blake's crimes was long, including things that weren’t so worrying, such as vandalism, criminal mischief, disturbing the peace, and defacing public property, but the final entry seemed to be highlighted in flames as it burned its way into Yang’s bulging eyes: “accessory to multiple homicide.”

“This can’t… I don’t…” she stammered, dropping the paper and wiping her hands as though Weiss had coated it with poison. “She wouldn’t,” she said, looking at Weiss, pleading with every ounce of her being. Some small part of her mind walled itself off in a land of denial and waited to be told it was a joke or a misunderstanding; that Ruby was going to jump out at any minute with a hidden camera so they could all laugh and laugh. Maybe they could call Blake and she could be in on the joke, and she would laugh twice as hard as all the rest at the ludicrous scenario Weiss had dreamed up.

But no laughter came. Instead, Weiss stood, so pale and still that Yang felt like she was staring down a marble statue formed by the masterful hands of a heartbroken sculptor. Eventually, Weiss shuddered back to life, reaching out hesitantly, trying to repair the damage that she hadn’t exactly caused but couldn’t help but feel party to, stifling tears when Yang jerked away from her touch. “I’m so sorry,” was all she could say, her voice a mere whisper.

“No! This is all… it’s a mistake, that’s what it is,” Yang said, willing her words to alter the truth she refused to accept. “Who have you told about this?”

“No one,” Weiss assured her. “I printed these out and wiped my search history. This is all there is of it, and I’m giving it to you,” she said as she stooped and retrieved the discarded paper, struggling to rise against the emotional weight imbued in the seemingly harmless object.

“Wait, why? Why not report this to the cops?”

Weiss looked down. “I should, to be honest. That would be the appropriate thing to do,” she said, raising her eyes to meet Yang’s and holding out her unwelcome offering. “but it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. These are the facts. I’m sure of that. But only Blake knows the truth, and I think you deserve to hear that from her. I...I don’t think she’s actually dangerous, but just, be careful. Please.”

“I will,” Yang said, staring at the proffered object miserably before accepting it with trembling fingers.

“When are you going to confront her?”

Yang looked at the printout one more time, her heart screaming that it was a fake, a forgery, a mistake. But below the fog of emotion lay the mind of an engineer who trusted her eyes, who trusted facts and figures, and who was willing to cut her own heart in two to accept the truth when it was it right in front of her. She looked up at her dear friend and pulled her into a tight embrace before stepping around her to grab her jacket and keys. “No time like the present.”

Before leaving a thought occurred to her and she jogged up the stairs to her room, waving silently to Weiss as she returned and marched out into the evening.

Blake’s voice had been understandably surprised over the intercom when her guest arrived some minutes later, but she had hit the buzzer as soon as she realized who it was, and all too soon Yang was standing at her door, her mind still reeling from the treacherous piece of paper she could feel burning away like the fuse of a stick of dynamite in her front pocket. There was no stopping it now, all she could do was place it and wait for it to detonate, destroying everything in its blast radius. When Blake opened the door and took one look at her, her surprise turned to worry and she motioned Yang in, closing the door.

“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.

Despite overflowing with a litany of questions, Yang found herself drawing a blank. Seeking clarity in motion as she so often did, she set about pacing the tiny apartment and quickly found the four walls to be maddeningly confining. Finally, she turned back to Blake, who was watching her with growing unease. “Blake, I know that you have things you feel you can’t tell me, and I’ve never wanted to push you on them. I always just figured you would tell me when you’re ready.”

“Yang, what’s this all about, what happened?” Blake asked, crossing her arms nervously.

“Nothing, I just.” Yang began, struggling to put such an accusatory question in words that wouldn’t come out as an attack. “Blake, I want to trust you. I do trust you. I just need you to tell me why this is all so important to you. How are you linked to the White Fang?”

Blake stepped back and pulled in on herself, as though trying to make herself small enough to disappear. “I told you, I caught wind of this back in Vacuo and I’ve been chasing it ever since.”

“That’s not everything. Please, please tell me the truth. All of it.”

Blake looked away from her pleading eyes. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

Hoping the one gambit she had up her sleeve would pay off Yang reached into her pocket and pulled out “The Man with Two Souls”, and set it purposefully on the table. She watched as Blake followed her movements, searching her bewildered eyes for answers. “I finished it,” she said simply when none came. “Twice,” she added.

“Is that what this is about?” Blake said, shaking her head and reaching for the book in question.

“This is about what that book means to you.”

As she flipped through it Blake shrugged but never met Yang’s eyes. “I’m glad you read it, touched even. But it’s just a book,” she muttered.

“Is it?” Yang shot back. “At first I thought so, then I thought you picked it because you knew I’d relate. The whole dual nature thing and all definitely resonated, but then I started wondering. How do you relate to it?”

“Yang, please, I don’t know what has you so upset but maybe we should talk about this another time,” Blake pleaded.

“No, we need to talk about this now. I feel…I feel like I know you so well in some ways, and in others, you are a complete mystery to me. I hoped over time that would improve, that you would open up and I wouldn’t have to press. I even thought you were, but now I see that I was only learning about one part of your life, one of your souls, if you will,” Yang said, her voice growing thin as she fought through her pain. “I need you to tell me about the side you’ve been hiding from me. Please. I need to hear it from you.”

Blake’s breath caught in her throat as Tai’s advice ran through her head, as unbidden as it had been upon its original delivery. She knew more than ever that he was right, but the fear that she was too late left her mute. The beginning of the end of her world was heralded by the sound of a single sheet of paper being removed from a pocket as she looked on miserably. 

Yang’s face grew red as tears welled in her eyes, but she fought through both as she gently placed her folded piece of paper on the table that had somehow found its way between them. After she had stepped back Blake approached, picking up the sheet as though it would burst into flames if she moved too quickly. She paused before unfolding it, looking sadly at Yang before proceeding, and then dropped the paper immediately upon seeing its contents, jumping back as though it had bitten her.

“Blake, please, just...” Yang began but was immediately cut off.

“Where did you get this?” Blake hissed.

“It doesn’t matter-”

“Who else knows?!”

Yang cast her eyes to the floor. “Weiss told me,” she admitted slowly.

“Is she going to…?”

“No!” she cried, her head snapping back up and her hands splayed placatingly. “This is the only copy, she hasn’t told anyone else, and she won’t.”

“Fuck, oh Gods...” Blake said, muttering to herself and pacing frantically. After a few laps, she seemed to remember that Yang was still there, and looked up to meet her eyes, her own going wide as she gasped. “Oh Gods, I. Yang...”

But before she could finish something inside her finally snapped. Although she had known, logically, she would have to reveal her past eventually, she had been harboring the secret hope that she wouldn’t have to; that she could pretend none of it had ever happened and just build a new life so rich and complete that it wouldn’t matter that she had no past. As she stood there staring at the woman she had wanted to build that life with she felt the illusion that was the foundation of everything splinter and shatter into tiny, insubstantial pieces. Left with nothing to hold it up, her life began to crack and sway ominously. Before it could collapse before her very eyes, Blake gave in to her primal desire for escape and darted for the window, diving out of it and disappearing up the fire escape so quickly that Yang hardly had time to register her movement. The only thing she left behind were two words as she dashed past.

“I’m sorry.”

And then she was gone.

\--

Hours later Yang was still sitting at that small table, looking at the piece of paper that had ruined everything. In hopes of waiting Blake out she got up to make tea, and as the burner caught a sudden urge overtook her. Before placing the kettle over the flame she went back to the table and snatched up the paper. Returning to the stove, she poked a corner of it through the grill until it lit and then stood over the sink, watching the paper burn to ash. Though it didn’t magically summon Blake back, it did free Yang from its terrible reality for just a moment. Sighing at the brevity of her relief, she set the kettle on and sat back down, placing her head in her hands.

She waited as long as she could, eventually giving up when her head slipped out of her hands and nearly hit the table. Too tired to ride home and unwilling to leave regardless she relocated to the bed, disturbingly unfamiliar in the absence of its owner. Before she drifted off a thought occurred to her and she grabbed her scroll, pulling up the video feed to the motel. As soon as she did her heart sank. Not only was the room empty, all of Blake’s things were gone. Rewinding to earlier in the evening, she saw a brief flash of dark hair race through the room gathering belongings before vanishing back into the night.

Yang threw her scroll across the room and screamed her rage and sadness into a pillow, then immediately jumped up to retrieve the device. One last hope coming to mind.

**Blake**

> _Please, please come back. I know there’s an explanation for all of this. You don’t even have to tell me anything, just come back. Please_
> 
> _**NOTICE:** this scroll is currently unavailable, your message was not delivered._

This time Yang couldn’t even bring herself to yell, she simply slumped into the pillow and cried until exhaustion overcame her.

\--

The next morning she woke to a still-empty apartment, her eyes red and swollen and her head throbbing as though with a hangover she hadn’t earned. Not knowing what else to do she scrawled a quick note begging Blake to call her and left. Somehow she made it back home and then on to the lab, but the day passed in a haze, as did those that followed. All of her messages were rejected, repeated attempts to catch Blake at home led to long, cold waits on her stoop, and even showing up at the newspaper was a disappointment. Her coworkers reported she had called in sick and was delivering all of her work via email until she felt better.

When the weekend came she grew so desperate she even rode past the motel on her bike, not stopping but slowing enough to see the lights were off in her room. She knew that the feed was still showing an empty room, but Yang clung to the remote hope that the cameras were somehow mistaken. As she rumbled past a voice emerged from some horrid corner of her mind to suggest that she may never see Blake again, and she was forced to pull over to stop herself from hyperventilating. The thought of losing her was bad enough, but for their last night together to be one full of fear and misunderstanding was unbearable. Left with no more ideas, Yang reluctantly returned home.

The only thing that saved her from completely sinking into a pit of despair was the knowledge that she had a fight coming up. It didn’t so much cheer her up as give her a tangible obligation, but that was enough to prevent her from spending all of her time wallowing in her bed. It also provided an outlet for her building frustration. With little else to do, she threw herself into training with violent abandon, taking every free moment she had to spar or hit a bag until she could hardly breathe, sometimes until her knuckles bled through her wraps. Pyrrha stopped commenting on her new bruises and cuts after Yang snapped at her the first couple of times, and had to firmly press her lips together each morning to restrain herself. Meanwhile, Yang’s other labmates began avoiding her altogether because of her sour demeanor. Attempts at drawing her out were launched on several fronts, all to no avail. Her friends even resorted to a group text chain formed solely to strategize ways to figure out what was wrong, not that it yielded any results.

All the while Weiss fretted silently, knowing full well the source of the problem but completely bereft of a solution and unwilling to reveal the secret she had sworn to keep. Worse, she honestly couldn’t decide if what she had done was right. All attempts at talking to Yang had been summarily shot down, and after a few such interactions, she noticed that their paths mysteriously stopped crossing at all. Based on reports from Pyrrha, Weiss knew she was spiraling toward a bad place, but in a rare moment of helplessness found herself with nothing to do but wait and watch in guilt-ridden silence.

\--

“Hey Dragon, I was wondering when you’d get here!” Rasher called jovially. Unfortunately for him, Yang was in no mood for the usual back and forth with the big bouncer.

“Turns out the answer was now, go figure,” she replied dourly.

“Hey now, what’s with the attitude? Your pet was nice enough when she slunk through earlier.”

Yang’s head snapped back so fast she was worried she would get whiplash as she went from staring at the ground to glaring at the giant before her. “She’s here? When did she go through?!”

“Easy, killer. About a half-hour ago, said you weren’t far behind. Trouble in paradise?” he asked, a mocking grin on his face. Yang simply growled in response and shoved past, her mood in no way lifted by the chortling man behind her.

She stalked through the dilapidated building, its general neglect and quickly-erected ring and stands blending together in Yang’s mind with all of the previous locations into a single grimy, amorphous blob. After searching the crowd for several minutes she realized that if Blake wasn’t already in some secret meeting she would have disappeared somewhere, not likely to be found unless she wanted to be. For the briefest moment she wondered if she had actually been aiding her with some nefarious plan all along, then quickly shook that off. Whoever Blake was before, Yang knew the woman she had become. She had to believe that Blake was trying to do the right thing, and if the only way she was going to allow herself to be helped was by using the Dragon as her ticket in, then so be it.

Cut out and left alone yet again, Yang dragged her feet to her sanctuary for the evening, putting on an air of easy confidence while she passed through the main locker room, full as it was of several potential opponents who would love to see weakness in the champion, before closing the door behind her and collapsing miserably on the couch to wait. After a solid hour of moping Yang decided she had indulged her feelings long enough and swung herself upright to begin preparations for her fight. Looking around the empty room she reminded herself that this was, in fact, a return to form. She had always prepared, fought, and left by herself, with no one but the anonymous crowd to mark her passing. Yet after only a small handful of fights with a comforting presence by her side, she now felt the loss of that presence acutely and was all too aware that she was very much alone. 

She went through her warm-up mechanically, her mind distant and reliant on her body to know what to do, noting with a modicum of gratitude that at least her various injuries were healed and trying not to think about the possibility of new ones occurring with no one to treat them. Banishing her fears, she began the calming routine of taping her hands and feet. Right as she finished she heard the noise of the crowd abate as Roman began introducing her opponent. Settling her gloves in place, she closed her eyes and looked within herself, hoping to find that the Dragon was waiting there, ready. Try as she might, however, she couldn’t rouse the beast, and when her name was called she had no option but to make do with her best facsimile and hope that the crowd wouldn’t notice the difference.

Alone, she strode to the ring, shoulders back and head high, her clenching fists sending ripples along the powerful muscles in her arms, every inch the champion. The crowd was likely on its feet, cheering wildly, but none of it reached the solitary figure walking through their midst. As she stepped up into the ring a question passed through her mind that had never occurred to her before a fight.

What was she doing there?

Why come? Why fight this guy across from her, other than to shut his mouth after it expelled several lewd comments? What was the point of any of this?

Would this fill the ever-present void within her? Would it make her feel complete?

Would it make her enough?

Trying to clear her head, Yang looked at the man more closely, and for a moment thought there must be a mistake. He looked like someone they pulled out of the crowd. He was in decent enough shape, but his posture and hands didn’t bear any signs of the hours and hours of training that go into becoming a fighter. Worse, unless he was faking it he looked vaguely drunk.

As Roman moved to exit the ring, she grabbed his arm. “What the fuck? Who is this clown?”

“You really should listen to me before fights, Dragon,” he said mockingly, “You might learn something. This guy’s a volunteer, filling in for the fighter I guess I just forgot to book.”

“You don’t forget shit, what’s your game?”

“No game, but it sure would be embarrassing if you lost to a nobody, huh?” he said, shrugging his arm out of her grip and leaving the ring.

As the cage door shut behind him Yang started to understand the true nature of the trap. Obviously she was going to win, but that wasn’t really the point. Unskilled fighters were unpredictable, which weirdly made them dangerous. After spending so much time fighting increasingly talented opponents she would actually have to be wary of this man, and that was the problem. If the crowd saw the Dragon cowering from some nobody, or worse actually taking hits, they would turn on her. It would be assumed that she had been handed all of these fights and they would call for her blood. Some of them might even take a cue from the Kodiak’s crew and take matters into their own hands, and this time they might not fail.

So a win’s still a loss, she thought, running through her dwindling options. As the seconds counted down she found herself considering the one thing she never thought she would: throwing the fight. So what if she was out? Blake would find another way in, might not even need it anymore. Yeah, some might get mad at her for costing them their bets, but that was their issue. If she went down without taking any meaningful damage she could get out quickly and avoid everyone until she was back on busier streets.

The thought was enough to start a slow burn in her stomach. The Dragon did not throw fights, and the mere suggestion set off a spark of fury. Unfortunately, the dampness of Yang’s mood was causing the embers to gutter before they could catch, and for a perilous moment, she wavered, unsure of what to do. Her indecision evaporated, however, when she made one last sweep of the crowd and saw a pair of golden eyes staring back at her. The very eyes she had been seeking for days, afraid they were gone forever.

All at once, the flame caught, and with it came an answer. An answer that was swift, vicious, violent, and perfect. It was the only kind of answer the Dragon had to offer, and Yang accepted it graciously. She turned to her opponent and grinned savagely.

“Alright asshole, I tell you what. I’ll fight you with one hand behind my back, to make it fair.”

“You little b-“ but whatever he had been about to say was lost in a guttural noise as the bell rang and he dashed across the ring. Yang, as promised, held her right hand behind her back, her grin extending into a lupine smile as he took the bait. When he got just to the edge of her range she surprised him, and the whole crowd, by leaping backward. She hit the cage feet first and used the flex of the metal mesh along with her strong legs to propel herself back at the man far faster than he anticipated. Before he could even consider ducking or raising his hands his face was met by her fist, the momentum of his dash adding to that of her flying punch, and he did the only thing one can do in such a situation: he collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

The crowd was silent for the time it took to collectively inhale before erupting into shouts and cheers. This was what happened when a nobody entered the Dragon’s den: they were destroyed. Completely obliterated without a second thought. They were so elated that they didn’t notice that the subject of their adulation hadn’t waited for the cage to be opened or her hand to be raised but had rather vaulted the fence and disappeared into the wild throng, not even stopping to look back at the so-called fighter she had floored.

Even Blake didn’t notice at first, caught staring in disbelief at the brutal display she had just witnessed. It wasn’t until she found herself wrapped in a strong embrace that she realized Yang had left the ring at all. Despite the tumult of emotions that erupted within her she instinctively leaned in, unable to resist the call of her touch, and only pulled back reluctantly.

“Yang, I...”

But the fighter shook her head, finger to her lips. “Not here, come with me,” she said, holding tight to Blake’s hand and drawing her out of the crowd before turning back. “Please,” she added, somehow finding the courage to offer escape despite pleading against it.

“I… yeah. Let’s go,” Blake said, both resigned and elated to be following her.

Yang led her back to the dressing room, holding her hand in a way that spoke of her fear; fear that breaking contact might mean losing her again, fear that this time it would be forever. Blake fought back tears, she had been certain that she had ruined everything, again, yet here was this amazing woman holding her hand like her life depended on it, looking back at her periodically with more warmth and relief than she had ever seen directed her way. More than she believed she deserved.

When they finally reached the changing room Yang encased her in another hug, this one less fierce but no less full of longing. No longer in view of the crowd, she allowed her own tears to flow, and it was some time before she calmed herself enough to speak. “I thought I’d lost you,” she said hoarsely, looking up at Blake.

“I’m so sorry for running, I just couldn’t bear to let you see that part of me. I thought you would hate me.”

“I could never hate you!” she said vehemently.

“But you should!” Blake cried, not able to hold back any longer. “You should! I hid so much from you, and for you to find out like that rather than hear it from me. You have every right to,” she said, her voice trailing off in confusion when she still wasn’t greeted by the anger she deserved.

“Yeah well, I guess I just can’t,” Yang said, still too relieved at the reunion to remember the depth of her other feelings. “Look, we need to talk, but I’m just so glad to have found you again.”

Blake nodded, reaching up to cup Yang’s cheek, still in disbelief that she deserved the kindness being shown to her. “I’ll tell you everything. Not just what you ask or what you want to know. Everything. I swear.”

“Ok,” Yang agreed. “but not here.”

“No, definitely not here.”

\--

The journey back through the cold, dark, empty streets was carried out in silence. At first, this worried Blake; there were still things Yang didn’t know, things that could inspire her to turn away. For the briefest of moments, she feared it was actually a trap and she was going to end up in prison, but she banished the thought quickly and guiltily. This was Yang, the woman who was always giving her a chance, even when she didn’t feel she deserved one. Especially then. Blake refused to believe she would do something like that. Despite the fears waging war within her, Blake eventually found herself soothed by the constant presence of Yang’s hand. Though her grip had lost much of its panicked tension she had refused to break contact throughout the journey. Little by little the comforting pressure worked its magic and Blake found herself with a small but growing sense of hope.

That hope was a much-needed boon to the struggling faunus. Now that someone knew her secret she was unable to ignore the weight of it, and it was heavy. She had been carrying it so long that she hadn’t even realized how much of her mental and emotional energy went into maintaining it, and seeing possible reprieve on the horizon made the load feel that much more burdensome. However, it also granted her a burst of strength. She almost ran the last twenty yards to her building, Yang keeping up gamely, and they were both just a little breathless as they burst into her apartment.

Something about the sound of the door closing and the deadbolt sliding home deflated Blake, and as she turned to face Yang she was couldn’t help but fret over how badly things could still go. She was glad, at least, that there was no way to turn back; she knew full well she would if she could. Yang watched her quietly as she removed her jacket and boots and took a seat at the small table. Blake came and joined her, unable to meet her eyes for several minutes as she tried to gather her thoughts.

Finally, she settled on beginning with something she’d wanted to say since they met. “My real name is Blake Belladonna,” she said, enjoying the feel of the bouncing syllables themselves as well as the weighty truth of pronouncing them.

“That fits you so much better than ‘Amaryllis’” Yang said, smiling encouragingly.

Blake smiled back but faltered somewhat. “My father...” she said, fumbling as she tried to find her footing.

“Ghira Belladonna,” Yang added helpfully, aiding without urging or demanding.

Blake marveled at her constant gentleness and allowed it to carry her along like a much-needed wind in her sails. She looked up and nodded her thanks at the prompting. “Yes. He was declared High Leader of the White Fang shortly after I was born, and remained in that position for my entire childhood. Under him, the organization was a peaceful one, fighting for justice and equality for the faunus but never resorting to violence to do so. I didn’t spend my weekends playing sports or doing ballet like other kids, I spent them at rallies and protests, and sometimes court cases. My parents traveled a lot, and given the peaceful nature of the organization, it never occurred to them that bringing me along could be dangerous. If anything, they figured it would be educational, especially since they assumed that eventually I would follow in their footsteps and work within the Fang, if not someday become the leader, and for a while, I thought the same.

“But the faunus grew restless. Decades had passed since the formation of the group and they were still fighting the same fights: equal pay, anti-discrimination laws, better protections against hate crimes...the list goes on. It was all happening too slowly, many thought, and the leader of these complaints eventually became the one to take my father’s place, and she brought about a change.”

"Sienna Khan?" Yang asked.

"Yeah," Blake said, nodding distantly as she remembered her misguided jubilance at the fateful transition of power.

“Was this about ten or eleven years ago?” Yang said, a vague memory of a school lecture bubbling up as she listened.

“Twelve,” Blake replied, “I imagine it was covered more once she had time to enact her plans though, so that’s probably when you started to hear about it. At first, my father worked in an advisory role, but as Sienna’s methods became more and more aggressive, he stepped away entirely and focused on Menagerie.”

“But you didn’t?” Yang asked, anticipating the direction the story was taking.

“No, I didn’t,” Blake agreed sadly. “I was young and brash, and I agreed with Sienna. It felt like nothing at all had changed my entire life, so when she started suggesting we take more drastic measures, I thought she was strong where my father was weak, and I followed her. At first, it was minor vandalism: painting slogans on government buildings and defacing signs of companies run by known racists. Eventually, it escalated and we were ‘liberating’ supplies and destroying property as it suited us.”

“That...actually explains the whole ninja thing pretty well.”

Blake snorted, “Yeah, I was often on recon duty. I got pretty good at breaking and entering without setting off alarms or alerting guards, and I admit I loved the rush. It all made me feel like a freedom fighter, you know? Battling the forces of evil to help the little guy,” Blake said, a sad look crossing her face as she remembered the naive girl sneaking across rooftops, thinking she was a hero. “And maybe that’s what we were, for a time, but that’s not what we became.

“Eventually my parents caught wind of the fact that I was still working with the White Fang, despite my attempts to cover it up. We fought, they accused me of being a criminal, I called them cowards and traitors to our people. They forbid me from going on any more missions, but by then no walls could contain me, so I left. That was ten years ago, and I haven’t seen or spoken with them since.”

“Blake, I...I’m so sorry,” Yang said softly.

“Why? I did it to myself.”

“You were so young, you clearly thought you were doing the right thing,” she insisted.

“Maybe, I don’t know. I think what really sealed my fate was that I was in love. Or at least, I thought I was,” Blake said. She had considered withholding this, but now that she was finally telling the truth the idea of lying was unthinkable. It was all going to come out, and she would accept the consequence, whatever they may be.

“Oh,” was all Yang said.

Blake saw her fighting down a mix of emotions, not least of which was jealousy, and she decided to go on before her imagination filled in the blanks. “He was older than me, too much older, but I didn’t know that at the time. All I knew was that he was handsome and smart and so driven, so dedicated to the cause. I had known him distantly while my parents were still involved but it was only after they left that he…” She sighed, wishing she had understood the situation better at the time. “That he took an interest in me. He started helping me, teaching me to fight and to pick locks and several other useful skills. Then it was discussions of philosophy and ethics and politics. Then it was…more.” She hesitated, but Yang seemed to understand the gist so she went on, “I was enamored, so when my parents forbade me to leave and he asked me to defy them it wasn’t much of a choice. I told myself it was for the cause, but looking back I think it was just as much for him. For Adam.

“Eventually I began to see my mistake, but I was in so deep with both Adam and the White Fang that I didn’t know how to get out. You see, while I was sneaking around in the shadows Adam was kicking down doors and sticking people up. In the beginning, he accomplished things bloodlessly, but then a mission went sideways and he killed a human, claiming self-defense. Rather than reprimand him Sienna applauded his bravery, and over time his body count started to rise.

“He always explained it away to me, and at first I believed his lies. He had to do it, he didn’t want to, it was to save the lives of others. All nonsense but I ate it up, desperate to believe he was some sort of hero rather than a monster. The last straw was a mission we were on together, outside of Vale actually, stealing a shipment of weapons from a military train. The plan was to get aboard, move everything we wanted to the rear car, and set charges in the one ahead of it that would blow as a distraction after we’d disconnected them. Once our car came to a stop some of our trucks could come to collect the supplies. No blood, all done in the middle of nowhere, the minimal crew supposedly located towards the front, far from where we’d be. It was a good plan. Until we stumbled upon a single guard, taking a cigarette break in the rear car. I managed to knock him out, but not before he saw us. Before I could stop him Adam had swept through the train, subduing the guards silently one by one and dragging them all back to the second-to-last car and tying them up. He started going on about how we had to ensure no one knew we had been there, that we couldn’t leave any loose ends. I begged him, pleading for the lives of humans who had done nothing but show up for work that day, but he wouldn’t relent. Something about seeing those men, helpless and unconscious, not knowing that their lives were about to end in a fiery blaze, it opened my eyes. I couldn’t stand by while we killed and called it justice, not anymore. So as Adam was going back for the charges he had left in the rear car I simply detached it. The last time I saw him he was screaming at me across a widening expanse of track, swearing he would kill me for my treachery.

“I snuck off the train as it entered the station, and I ran. I considered going back to my parents, but I couldn’t bring myself to face them. I was a wanted criminal, like many members of the Fang at that point, and I was still so ashamed of how I had treated them. I knew I needed a place I could hide, maybe try to build a new life. Atlas was never an option for me, given their relationship with the faunus, and Mistral wasn’t much better at the time. Still isn’t, in some places. Vale could have been but knowing Adam was anywhere near there was terrifying, so that left Vacuo. A few weeks later I arrived, paid someone to give me a new identity, and Blake Amaryllis was born. Apparently, the guy who forged my documents had a sense of humor and picked out another flower for my name, thought I’d like it. I didn’t. Not that it mattered. Shade academy wasn’t too thrilled with the story of my high school burning down along with my transcript but turned a blind eye after I aced their entrance exam.

“For a while, I tried to blend in, live a normal life. Living as a human was an unexpected turn, but that was what I was given, so I made do. I thought I could actually start a new life, pretend my old one hadn’t happened, and for a while I did. I was a loner in college but not a total recluse. I had a few friends, though never too close, and tried to let myself enjoy it. Journalism was a godsend, it gave me hope that I could still fight the good fight, even if I had to do it with my words. At least no one’s blood had to be spilled.

“I graduated and got a job, started working my way up, paying my dues and all that. It felt like I had done it; like I had really gotten out. But one day, as I was going through my inbox, I came across a note from an unknown address. It didn’t say much, but it was addressed to ‘Blake B’, which obviously got my attention. It claimed there was upheaval in the White Fang, some were now saying that Sienna was weak, and those who believed that were planning something big as a show of force. Something in Vale. It was signed ‘I’, which given the tone and the use of my last initial I assume was an old partner of mine, Ilia. She was always on the fence, eager to punish humans for their crimes but never quite as cruel or vindictive as Adam. I suspect whatever is being planned doesn’t sit right with her so she tipped me off, and has sent me a few hints along the way ever since, though I haven’t managed to contact her or even confirm it’s her at all yet. Anyway, after that first message, I quit my job, found a new one here, and moved. You know the rest.”

Blake was silent, feeling empty in an oddly satisfying way after saying so much. More than she had in a long time. She searched Yang’s face to get a sense of how she had taken it all, unable to decipher the look she saw there.

“Yang I...I didn’t want to be a killer, I wanted to do the right thing,” she said, desperate to not be rejected after laying herself bare for judgment.

In response, Yang simply stood and came around the table to pull Blake up into a firm embrace. “I know you’re not a killer Blake,” she said, finally finding her voice. “and I know that you only ever wanted to do what’s right. I’m so sorry that you had to go through all of that.”

As relief flooded Blake’s heart tears flooded her face. They began as tears of joy at finally being free of the prison of her secret. Even if she still had to lie to the rest of the world, telling one person, the one who mattered, was the greatest relief she had felt in years. Then they were tears of sadness at the thought of the life she should have lived, the person she should have been instead of the broken and twisted up woman struggling to make things right after years of getting them wrong. Then they were tears of guilt for those she hurt along the way, both directly and through her complacency in the actions of those around her. Then they were tears shed for the incredible woman holding her, unbelievably still standing there after learning everything.

Blake pulled back, sure she was a mess but lacking the capacity to care. The floodgates were open now, she could hold nothing back. “Yang?” she began, hesitating for the space of a heartbeat but pressing on before she could lose her nerve. “I know this isn't the best time and I’m a wreck and...fuck it. Yang, I love you. I love you so much.”

Yang’s eyes went wide and her breath caught, and Blake swore she heard her mind grind to a halt. Still, the pause was enervating and she immediately regretted being so forthright. “If you don’t feel the same way it’s fine, I don’t, I just, I...oh Brothers.” she stammered, wishing she could go back in time.

Before she could protest further Yang’s lips were on hers, insistent and warm and comforting. After a moment she pulled back, looking like she almost had her wits about her again. “I love you too, Blake.”

“You don’t have to… I don’t want you to feel obligated to say it,” Blake stammered, but Yang was laughing.

“No, no, I’m sorry for pausing like that. It’s just, I wasn’t sure if you felt that way, and hearing you say it just…surprised me so much I forgot how to speak for a minute there. But I do love you, Blake. So, so much.” she said, pulling her in for another kiss.

When they parted they simply stood and stared into each other’s eyes, feeling childlike amazement in the magic of the moment, a moment that happens between countless couples every day and even multiple times throughout a single life for some, and yet feels completely unique in every single instance. Is unique, in truth. Unique in time and space as well as in the infinite patterns two souls can make as they intertwine.  
  
After basking in the glow of the enchanting feeling for a time Blake took Yang’s hand and led her to the bed, intending to let her body affirm what her lips had just proclaimed. As they reached it she looked back and cocked her head at the question she saw in Yang’s eyes.

“So...are you my girlfriend now?” Yang asked, smiling bashfully.

Blake laughed as she pulled them both down to the waiting mattress.

“I suppose,” she said, then more seriously, “if you’ll have me.”

“I absolutely will.”


	22. The Coming Storm

The sun was strongly considering making its way above the horizon before they slept, and was long past the zenith when they arose. They held tight to one another as they tarried on the verge of wakefulness, enjoying the delicate pull of their precious new bond but hesitant to test its strength against the world at large. Gradually they stirred, grudgingly accepting that they couldn’t stay in bed forever. While Blake sauntered to the kitchen to start a pot of tea Yang sat, digesting the events of the evening before and trying to find the source of her nagging feeling that she was missing something important.

“Shit, I never asked! What happened last night? Did you learn anything new about what they’re planning?”

Blake grimaced as she turned around. “Yes, but not enough. Even if I had figured out a way to get a recording device in there I’m not sure it would have been useful.”

“Why? What did you learn?”

“They’re planning something big, something that uses whatever they ‘liberated’ from that Schnee Dust Company shipment. They won’t tell the newbies what the target is, just that it’s important, and what our part in all of this is.”

“Which is?”

“We’re supposed to be a distraction,” Blake said. “They didn’t tell us when, but they’re expecting us to put together a protest, a big one, and storm City Hall. They weren’t explicitly advocating violence, but they hinted that we would have backup of some sort if there was, and they definitely want us to make some noise. The idea is to draw the news and preferably as much law enforcement attention as possible to us while they do whatever it is they’re planning to do.”

“So much secrecy just to plan a rally?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t make sense, unless they plan for this to be more of an uprising. I suspect they’ll try to arm some of us, but in the end, the protest isn’t the important thing.”

“It’s whatever they’ll be doing while it happens,” Yang said.

Blake nodded. “Right. Hard to say how much was hyperbole but it sounds like they aren’t going after anything small. So we need to figure out what the real target is. Secondary but still important is to learn exactly what it is they stole from that shipyard. Knowing that may well tell us what their goal is, or at least give us an idea of what their arsenal looks like.”

“I have an idea on how we can do that, but you may not like it,” Yang said, recalling the evening of the attack at the docks. “I could always ask Weiss.”

Blake’s expectant face fell. “No, Yang, we can’t...” she began, but her argument died on her lips. Weiss already knew who she was and it wasn’t like they had other leads waiting in the wings. She sighed, feeling defeated. “Do you think she would even know?”

Yang shrugged. “She’s not technically part of the company anymore, but I think she still has eyes and ears on the inside. The night the shipment was hit she left the room and made some calls, I think she was trying to see what was stolen. I won’t ask if you tell me not to, but I really think she could help us.”

Blake shook her head, less than thrilled at the thought of expanding her circle of trust after only just creating it, but desperation was a powerful force. “I trust you, Yang. If you think she can, and will, help then ask her. I’ll keep pulling at threads. Hopefully, I can find out what they’re really after, maybe even some proof of what they’re doing so we can tip off the cops.”

Yang stretched luxuriously, strolled to the kitchen, and sidled up next to Blake as she poured hot water into waiting mugs. “Learn anything else?” she asked.

“Just that whatever they’re planning the ‘True’ High Leader is involved. Something tells me that isn’t a reference to Sienna Khan. Whoever is agitating to take her place is making their move, and I bet they’re going to lead the attack personally.”

“So if we stop this attack we also stop the splinter group?”

Blake considered this, “Potentially. They might just install a new ringleader and keep up their efforts. It’s impossible to say.”

“A girl can hope.”

Blake smiled as Yang nuzzled her neck while she let her mug warm her hands. She blew into the steaming tea before sipping it thoughtfully. “Indeed you can,” she agreed.

\--

“I take it you and Blake made up?” Ruby snarked as Yang came through the door that evening, clearly wearing last night’s clothes.

“What makes you think we were fighting?” Yang asked, wincing as she heard the lame attempt at deflection out loud.

“You’ve been moping around for the past few weeks and then you disappeared for almost twenty-four hours. What were you two fighting about?”

“Fine, yeah we made up last night,” Yang said, feeling guilty as she saw Weiss giving her a probing gaze. Meeting it, she went on, “and the fight was nothing major, it’s ancient history.” Weiss narrowed her eyes but said nothing, opting to return to the law journal she was reading.

“Well I’m glad things are good between you two,” Ruby said, mercifully oblivious to the tension between the other two. “I haven’t seen you that depressed over a girl since high school.”

Yang stuck her tongue out at her brat of a sister, eliciting a gleeful laugh. After running upstairs to change into pajamas she came back down and flopped on the couch to enjoy an increasingly precious evening with the girls.

All too soon Ruby was yawning and complaining about how early she had to be up. Yang and Weiss commiserated with her a bit before finally shooing her up to bed. Yang listened as her door shut behind her, then struggled to organize her scattered thoughts from the past day, the obvious and building impatience radiating from Weiss doing little to improve her focus. Accepting that there was no good way to broach the topic she dove in.

“I talked to her about what you found,” she said, waiting for a reaction and worried when one didn’t come.

“Yes Yang, I gathered that. I assumed it did not go well when you stopped talking to everyone,” Weiss said, not looking up from her reading.

“It didn’t, not at first,” Yang admitted. “But last night we talked more and she explained.”

Weiss threw her journal aside as weeks of doubt and fear finally found a target. “How exactly did she explain it, Yang? That she accidentally became a terrorist and then hid it from everyone by mistake. That it’s all just a big misunderstanding?” she snapped.

“Weiss please, just listen.”

She seemed to consider this, then sat back and crossed her arms. “Go on then, I’m listening.”

Yang explained, slowly at first but eventually gaining steam as she retold the tale as it had been related to her the night before, pleased to see Weiss’s expression soften as she did, indeed, listen. When the story was done she sat, weighing what she had been told.

“I...assuming it’s all true I suppose I can...understand. I’m not thrilled that you chose a former terrorist to fall in love with though, Yang,” she said, looking up with genuine concern in her eyes.

“That’s fair,” Yang said. “but there’s more.”

“More?!”

“Keep your voice down,” Yang said, looking up the stairs nervously and waiting. Hearing no signs of movement she went on, “Yes, there’s more. She’s on the trail of a group within the White Fang that’s planning an attack in Vale and we need your help.”

“We?!” Weiss hissed.

Yang kicked herself mentally. “I, uh, may have volunteered to help her when she told me about it.”

“Of course you did.”

“Look, lives are the line. Will you help?”

Weiss frowned and looked at her perfect nails, stalling as she considered. “If I can, I will,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief at herself. “But I won’t break the law.”

“I would never ask you to,” Yang said.

Weiss sighed. “What do you need?”

“Information.”

“Care to be more specific?”

“I need to know what was stolen from the SDC shipment that got hit on the docks.”

Weiss’s eyes went wide. “They did that?”

“Yes.”

“Then things are worse than you thought.”

\--

**Yang**

> _We need to talk, ASAP._
> 
> _What happened?_
> 
> _I talked to Weiss. She told me things I can’t share here, but it’s bad._
> 
> _Is tomorrow night soon enough?_
> 
> _No, but it’ll do._
> 
> _We can meet tonight._
> 
> _No, no, we both have day jobs we can’t afford to get fired from. It’ll wait._
> 
> _Thank you, Yang, for everything. I don’t know what I would do without you._
> 
> _Probably still save the world, just without taking the time to eat or sleep._
> 
> _Ha, probably!_
> 
> _I’m sorry for dragging you into this._
> 
> _Don’t be._

Blake hesitated, still feeling shy with professions of feeling. As usual, Yang beat her to the punch.

> _Ok, time to go pretend to sleep._
> 
> _I love you._

Blake threw herself on her bed, grinning like an idiot and rereading those three words over and over. She knew she should be more worried about whatever Weiss has divulged but the truth was that love scared and excited her far more than mortal peril ever could.

> _I love you too._

\--

“You know what would be nice?” Yang said as she entered Blake’s apartment, pausing to shed her jacket and plant a firm kiss on her girlfriend’s lips.

“What?”

“Coming over or going on a date without it being cover for something else. Planning to go see a movie and, here’s a crazy idea, actually going to the movie. No secret missions, no breaking and entering, no plotting or scheming.”

“No illegal cage fights?” Blake added helpfully. The look she received in response was not one of amusement but she laughed at her own joke regardless, if for no other reason than to have a moment of levity before they got down to business. “So what’s the bad news?”

“Bad and only. Aside from typical military ordinance: guns, body armor, explosives, and all those goodies, that shipment had some experimental tech built by SDC in collaboration with the Atlesian military. Specifically, Paladin units.”

Blake shook her head, confused. “Paladins are those piloted mechs that came out last year, aren’t they? They’re hardly experimental at this point.”

“The originals aren’t, but these are different. They have a new control unit that allows either remote-control or fully autonomous modes that act on simple directives.”

“I mean that sounds a little scary but not that different.”

“Blake, it is different. Right now the cops have about a dozen for riot control, but when they’re operating there has to be a highly trained pilot in each. A person that you can see, reason with. This new version allows one person to be able to control a squad by themselves, anonymously. Weiss even said that the shipment had extra control units that can be added to old hardware.”

Blake sat down hard. “So the White Fang could not only have a squad of remote control walking tanks, but they could hijack the ones the cops are using.”

“That’s the long and short of it, yeah,” Yang said, slowly lowering herself into the other chair.

“Fuck.”

“Pretty much.”

“We need to figure out what their target is, if they’re going to hit it with that kind of firepower it must be big and well-fortified,” Blake said, trying to move past a problem she couldn’t solve and find one she hopefully could.

“We need to tell the cops.”

Blake’s train of thought was violently derailed as she was reminded of her own news, and she dropped her head into her hands. “We might have another problem there.”

“What?”

“I’ve been chasing every possible lead, and it occurred to me that we might know the identity of one of the White Fang members here in Vale.”

“Really? Who?” Yang asked.

“The man who dropped off my letter.”

“Fuck, with everything else I had completely forgotten about him. I’m guessing that it’s not good news.”

“No, it’s not,” Blake said, pulling herself back upright. “When I first thought to check the high-def footage from the motel room I immediately recognized him, it was that pretty boy who hit on me when I dropped off the key.”

“Shit, so the White Fang were staking the place out that day.”

“Looks like it,” Blake agreed. “To make matters worse I caught a partial view of the car he drove when he dropped off my instructions, and it was enough to get the license plate.”

“And?” Yang prompted.

“And it was registered as an unmarked Vale PD car, currently assigned to a Detective Bryce Ochre,” Blake said, pulling up his photo on the VPD website and then switching to a still-frame of the footage from the motel that clearly showed the same man.

“Shit,” Yang said as she flipped between the pictures. “The White Fang has a cop on their side. Fuck!”

“At least one,” Blake pointed out.

“There must still be a way we can inform the good cops of what’s going on. They can’t own the whole VPD!” Yang insisted.

“No, they can’t, but we’ll have to be careful. Best case the White Fang can bury anything we try to report, worst case we tip our hand and lose the element of surprise. Regardless, we need to do more research since we still don’t have anything concrete to hand them.”

“What do we do?” Yang asked, hating how helpless she felt.

“We keep going,” Blake said, her voice full of steely determination. “We stop them.”

\--

**Blake**

> _One mystery solved._
> 
> _What’s that?_
> 
> _When: it’s going down in just under three weeks._
> 
> _Saturday night?_
> 
> _Yeah. How did you know that?_
> 
> _That’s my next fight, I just got the text._
> 
> _Why do I feel like that isn’t a coincidence?_
> 
> _Probably because it isn’t. The fight is just over a mile from City Hall._
> 
> _Fuck. I don’t have a good feeling about this._
> 
> _Join the club._

Yang got back to work at her bench. Though she didn’t have much to add in their search for answers, she was starting to think she might be useful with one of their problems. After some (in truth, much) wheedling she had convinced Weiss to help her get her hands on the classified design documents of the new Paladins. After fighting down her frustration at her lack of hacking skills she had focused on what she could do. The mechs ran on a platform that was remarkably similar to the robotic legs that powered Dr. Polendina’s chair, which was a blessing. Given her extensive work with them while developing her prosthetics it didn’t take Yang long to conceive of a way that she could pilot a unit. If only she could connect to it.

“One thing at a time,” she muttered to herself as she got back to tweaking her control harnesses, hoping that no one would notice or question her odd burst of productivity. As she worked she sent up a silent prayer that just this once, her efforts wouldn’t be for nothing.

\--

Blake felt every second slip away as the days passed, terrified that she was going to run out of time, that there would be a river of blood on her hands when she did. She made an effort to sleep occasionally, mostly when Yang reminded her, but it was never restful. She suspected she was in good company though, Yang seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time either working in her lab or at the gym. She had insisted that she wouldn’t fight if she didn’t have to, but was not training as though it were a last resort. They saw each other when they could, but both were so consumed with what was coming that those times were few and brief, if still sweet.

With only a week to go Blake sent a frantic message to Yang asking her to come over. The response was immediate; it seemed she had things to share as well. Less than an hour later her intercom buzzed and Blake unlocked the front door, barely stopping her constant pacing to do so. Yang came in, shedding her jacket and gloves and looking every bit as agitated as the prowling Blake.

“What did you find?” she asked as she walked in.

“That’s the problem, I’m not a hundred percent sure, but if I’m right...” Blake trailed off, suddenly questioning whether she had found anything at all. Seeing her uncertainty, Yang came over and gently gripped her shoulders.

“Blake, trust yourself. I do. What did you find?”

Blake let go of her doubts, or tried to, and met Yang’s gaze. “I think they’re going to attack the CCT tower.”

“What?!”

“I know, it’s crazy.”

“Crazy?! It would be suicide! They don’t exactly leave that unguarded.”

“That’s probably what the Paladins are for. Anyway like I said I’m not 100% sure. I got another message from Ilia, or the person I assume is Ilia, that had a URL. It linked to a private forum. The discussion was mostly in a sort of coded slang the White Fang uses when they need to communicate in spaces like that.”

“The same code they used, back when...?” Yang said, still adjusting to the truth of Blake’s past.

“Not exactly, it’s been years, but a lot of the old patterns were there.”

“But you’re sure? The CCT tower?”

Blake thought for a moment, wanted to say no, that she wasn’t, but her instincts were practically screaming at her that the tower was the target. “I am,” she said.

Yang collapsed into the nearest chair, staring at nothing as her mind raced. “Why though? What good does it do the White Fang to shut off comms in the kingdom? Atlas will see that and send an emergency repair crew. It would be bad for a while, but once it was fixed things would go back to normal, right?”

“It would cause chaos, maybe work as a show of force for future negotiations. But yeah, I’m not sure what their endgame is,” Blake admitted.

“I know it’s a risk but we have to tell the cops. Fuck, we have to tell the military,” Yang said, leaning her head in her hands, trying to wrap her head around it all.

“I’m not exactly on speaking terms with the military, but I already placed an anonymous tip with the police. I gave them what I could, but there’s no telling if it got into the right hands and I’m not sure if they’ll take me seriously even if it did. Telling them in person would probably be more effective but that’s obviously not an option.”

“No, you’re right,” Yang agreed. “White Fang members or no, the most likely outcome of that would be you in jail and the cops taking little or no action based on what you told them.”

“Right,” Blake said, unsure if she was simply being a coward but heartened by Yang’s agreement. “At least out here, I can try to do something.”

“Gods this sucks,” Yang said, running her hand through her hair. “I’ll talk to Weiss. She’s already in this, maybe she can get word to the military through her Atlas contacts. They should at least know what’s coming and how much of a liability their Paladins are going to be.”

“You said you had news too? I sure hope it’s good,” Blake said, counting on her personal hero having a trick or two up her sleeve.

Yang’s lips cocked with a crooked grin. “Maybe not as good as I’d hoped, given how bad this could all get, but yeah, I have good news.”

With that, she pulled out a cylinder just too big to wrap her fingers around and set it on the table. Blake picked it up, seeing it had an odd bit that looked like it connected to something but otherwise completely mystified by the small, heavy device. “Am I supposed to recognize this?” she asked.

Yang smile broadened. “No, but you’re going to love it. It’s my own version of the remote control unit for the Paladins. Slap this in the override slot on the backside of one and I own it. I can control one at a time directly with the harness used to test my prosthetics the others through basic command signals, though I lack the know-how to properly interface with their weaponry or special functions. I should be able to make 'em walk though. More importantly, I can stop anyone else from using a unit I control.”

Blake threw her arms around Yang’s shoulders, squeezing her so tightly she cracked her own ribs. “You’re amazing! How did you manage this?!”

“The design is based on Dr. Polendina’s work, so I had a huge jumpstart, and Weiss managed to get me the blueprints,” Yang said, but her smile faded. “It doesn’t totally fix our problem though. I’ve made four so far, and with only a week to go, I doubt I could make more than a dozen. I have no way to test them, so I can’t even guarantee that they’ll work. And that’s not the bad news.”

Blake searched her face, her own falling as she figured it out. “They need to be placed manually.”

Yang nodded slowly. “Each one, individually. Someone has to walk up to a mech and smack it on the ass for this plan to work.”

“You mean I have to.”

Yang began to protest but Blake held up a hand to silence her as she steeled herself. “It’s ok Yang. What you’ve done is a miracle.”

“I could still be the one to place it,” Yang said, knowing it wasn’t true as the words left her mouth.

“No, you can’t. Even if I wasn’t the better choice for a job that requires stealth I don’t know how to handle the tech side, and I assume you’ll be transmitting from your lab?”

Yang nodded. “I don’t know of anywhere else that has all the equipment I need.”

“No, that makes sense. I don’t love how close you’ll be to the real attack though.”

“Not much that can be done about that. My lab is at least on the far side of campus from the tower. It’s unlikely to be an issue. Besides, I have to deal with the fact that you’re going to be within high-fiving range of some walking tanks. My situation doesn’t seem so bad by comparison.”

Blake had no comeback for that and merely shrugged, drawing patterns in the table as she tried to think of a way to prevent the coming storm. When she looked up she realized that Yang was waiting for her and she cocked her head in confusion.

“So what’s the plan?” Yang prompted.

Blake smiled despite herself. Here they were facing chaos and death and rather than thinking of retreat Yang wanted a plan of attack. “Above all else, we prioritize lives. Civilians and innocents first since they don’t have armor or any means of defense. Then we help the military. If we can save the tower, great, but that can be replaced. So I guess that means I go to the rally.”

Yang nodded, face grim. “Makes sense. Unlikely that you can stop it altogether but maybe you can get some people to bail before things go down.”

“Then I make a few mechanical friends.”

“Stick to unmanned. We have to hope the cops are on our side and any pilots will do the right thing.”

“What if they have a White Fang override onboard?”

“I guess try to remove it but don’t get caught, I doubt they would believe that you were trying to help.”

“No, likely not. What about the tower?”

“If we get things under control at the protest and manage to snag some Palidans we can dispatch them to the tower. It would take time but it might be enough, might even draw cops that way in the process.”

Blake grimaced, unsatisfied with their limited options but not seeing any other choice. “I guess that’s the best we can do. I’ll keep digging, maybe if I can figure out the whole plan it will help us prioritize.”

“Sounds good, I’ll keep working on my control modules,” Yang said, standing and looking toward the door she had only just entered.

Blake reached out and grabbed her hand, the nearness of danger making her priorities clear in a way they so rarely were.

“You can keep working tomorrow,” she said, surprising herself.

“Blake, I-“

“Please.”

No more convincing was necessary. As the clock ticked down they stole a few precious minutes, each reminding the other of what they were fighting for.


	23. Past Demons and Present Dangers

**Yang**

> _Did you tell Weiss?_
> 
> _I did_
> 
> _And?_
> 
> _She wanted more evidence and wasn’t thrilled when I couldn’t provide it._
> 
> _She did say she would reach out to her contacts but that she wasn’t as connected as we probably hoped so “no promises.”_
> 
> _That’s not ideal, but we had to try._
> 
> _Agreed._
> 
> _How are you doing?_
> 
> _Ahead of schedule, I should have one or two extra units ready in time._
> 
> _I meant how are YOU doing? Are you taking time to rest?_
> 
> _I thought that was my line._
> 
> _Usually, yes. Are you?_
> 
> _Yes dear._
> 
> _Oh honestly._
> 
> _Sorry, I am, I promise. Making time for training too, just in case._
> 
> _Good._
> 
> _I really miss you._
> 
> _Likewise. I’m glad I see you tomorrow, even if it’s so we can prep for...this._
> 
> _Me too. Go get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you._
> 
> _I love you too._

\--

Yang arrived just as Blake was getting out of her car, killing the roar of her bike’s engine and swinging her leg over the seat. Blake smiled at her, taking in her wild hair and manic grin and seeing a mirror image of her own nervous energy.

“You cannot have obeyed a single traffic law if you got here so fast.”

Yang laughed as she pulled her duffle out of one of the saddlebags, strode over, and interlocked their arms. “Somehow speed limits weren’t my top priority.”

“Yang!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be more careful as we prepare to risk our lives. Let’s go inside and order takeout.”

“I already did.”

“I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

Perhaps it was wildly inappropriate to continue in such a glib manner given what was in store for them, but Blake couldn’t find it in herself to care. Instead, she spun and kissed Yang, the invitation unspoken but obvious to the point of being salacious. “I think there are other reasons you keep me around.”

With a sly wink, she spun and strutted to the door, letting them both in. When they reached her apartment they barely managed to shut the door before pouncing on each other. The fear and stress that had been hanging over them egged them on, and had the front door buzzer not sounded sometime later they may have never parted. Instead, Blake threw on clothes from the assortment on the floor, intentionally choosing many of Yang’s, and went to answer the door. Her dishevelment and vaguely glassy eyes gave her away instantly, and the delivery man’s laughter echoed up the stairwell when he saw her.

Blake shrugged and brought the food back up to her apartment and to the bed where Yang was chuckling as well. With the door shut she let the blankets fall from her chin where she had been holding them and she and Blake very nearly got lost in one another again. Yang soon pulled away, however, smiling and swatting Blake’s searching hand. “Later. I’m starving.”

“Fine,” Blake said, smiling despite a slight hint of disappointment creeping into her tone.

As they ate their smiles faded as reality set in. Once they had run out of ways to avoid it they got down to business.

“So how many do we have?” Blake asked, her eyes sweeping toward the bag sitting by the door.

“Fourteen, though I cannot stress enough that they are all untested rush jobs.”

“Noted, is your lab set up?”

“Yup, everything’s ready there. Shouldn’t have any company but I installed a few motion sensors to give me a heads up in case I do. How are we looking on your front?”

“I reviewed the schematics you sent me, the blind spot in the sensors you indicated should be useful, and with the general chaos I think I should be able to get in and out on several before I’m noticed.”

Yang clenched and unclenched her jaw, still not loving their respective roles. “Any new info on the attack?”

Blake shook her head. “Not much. Seems they want to send a message of some sort. My guess is they’ll be recording somewhere, maybe to prove the military and police are vulnerable. I’m not sure.”

“Interesting but not super helpful.”

“Agreed. Basically, it means we stick to our plan. Keep people safe.”

Yang gave a mock salute. “Copy that. When and where is this all starting?”

“As you suspected, it’s kicking off from the fight.”

“Looks like the Dragon will be making an appearance after all.”

“That puts you kind of far from the lab, doesn’t it?”

Yang nodded. “Yeah, but we’re breaking protocol tomorrow. I’m going to stash Bumblebee nearby.”

“What if someone tries to steal it?”

“I installed a few countermeasures. Anyone tries to mess with her they’re going to have a bad night.”

“I’m not sure if I’m more afraid of your fists or your gadgets,” Blake said.

“Fortunately you don’t have to be afraid of either. Everyone else though? It’s a tossup for them,” Yang said with a predator's smile.

Blake rolled her eyes. “Ok, so as soon as things start moving, you get back to the lab. Meanwhile, I’ll do my best to convince people to bail. Maybe I can prevent a critical mass from forming. Assuming I can’t, I’ll start sneaking up on some Paladins and see if we can make some new friends.”

“By then I’ll be in position. I won’t have weapons but I’ll use what I have to help.”

“And I’ll switch to focusing on individuals in the crowd, hopefully, I can find any who look like they’re planning to start trouble and dissuade them.”

“If the cops manage to do their job things should be under control relatively quickly.”

“Then I head for the tower.”

Yang hesitated. “That’s the part I don’t like. Head to the tower and do what? If there’s a battle between heavily armed combatants what are you going to do?”

“I’ll likely still have some control units, we can turn the tide,” Blake said, determined.

“Promise you won’t jump into a firefight.”

“Yang. I can’t”

“Blake. Please.”

Blake thought about it. “Ok, I promise I’ll only get involved if I absolutely must and if I do I won’t be seen or go running in front of bullets.”

Yang watched her for a moment, weighing the potential loopholes in the already limited promise before accepting that it was the best she was likely to get. “Thank you. Also, should we get you, I don’t know, a weapon? It seems crazy to send you into all of this with just that billy club of yours.”

Blake looked uncomfortable for a moment, then got up and walked over to her kitchen sink. Crouching down and opening the cabinet beneath it she reached up and felt around until her hand came back with a black case. She set it on the table and quickly dialed in the combination on the lock, opening it with a resonant click. Yang got up as she lifted the lid, moving so she could see. Inside was a shiny black pistol with a handful of magazines, and rounds to fill them.

“Something tells me this isn’t a recent acquisition,” she observed.

“No...it’s not,” Blake said quietly. “I had hoped not to need it again.”

“Yeah well, now seems like the time.”

“Unfortunately you’re right,” Blake said, her heart sinking as she saw the black on black flower etched on the grip. She noticed Yang following her gaze, a question forming on her lips. “It was a gift. From him,” Blake preempted. She checked the pistol quickly, sliding the bolt back and finding it as smooth as she remembered, and put it back in its foam.

Yang reached for her, knowing there was nothing to be said but wanting to offer what comfort she could. Blake turned into her arms and buried her face in her neck, inhaling deeply. She let the familiar scent drive out the pain of the past and fill her with the promise of a future. They stood together like that for a time, clinging to each other and the brief lull in time, wishing it could last and knowing it could not.

Despite needing the rest desperately both women found it impossible to sleep and instead spent the night holding each other and talking intermittently. They abandoned all pretense as the sun rose, making love with a ferocity born of the fear that neither would admit to themselves let alone voice, but their hands spoke volumes of the worry that this time might well be their last. Both felt almost shellshocked when the storm they had created subsided, but that quickly gave way to a profound exhaustion that granted them a few desperately needed hours of dreamless sleep.

Nothing, in particular, woke them, but as one they returned to the world to see that the sun was high, and as one they got up and wordlessly set about double-checking their equipment. Their silence grew throughout the day until it was nearly deafening, but it was not a silence that held them apart. Rather, it was a silence that they were wrapping around themselves, avoiding the circular worries that would build between them if they spoke of what was to come. And what else was there to say? They each knew the other’s heart, they knew what they had to do. Everything else could wait.

\--

As they approached the building housing the night's arena they noticed an unusually large crowd waiting to get in. Yang looked at the line quizzically as she greeted Rasher.

“What’s the deal with that?” she asked, feigning disinterest.

“Word is the challenger tonight is a real beast. Fewer prelim fights too, maybe one or two before you’re on, so people want to get in early and get a good seat. You better not dilly dally yourself, Dragon,” he replied, too busy to make note of Blake's return as he waved them through.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Yang drawled. Once they were past the door she looked at Blake, dropping her bored facade.

“Yeah, I was worried about this,” Blake murmured. “They need a big crowd here all at once and they don't want people leaving before they kick off the real show.” As she spoke she scanned the room rapidly for threats. Seeing no obvious ones did little to put her mind at ease. “There might not even be a challenger, could just be a lie to get people here.”

“Fuck,” Yang said. “Still though, I’m going to head back and get ready, just in case.”

“Fair,” Blake replied, “I’ll come with you to drop things off before I scout the crowd a bit.”

The pair made their way through the rowdy throngs until they reached the locker room. Entering was another shock as it was nearly empty and eerily quiet, the men who were present readying themselves in total silence.

“Well the small undercard part was true,” Yang said as they closed the door to her changing room. “I could be on in less than an hour.”

“Yeah, about that,” Blake said, setting her backpack down gently, mindful of the transmitters inside. “Are you actually planning on fighting?”

Yang rubbed her neck. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you could get hurt.”

“That’s always a possibility.”

“And tonight it could mean that people die,” Blake finished.

Yang looked away, uncomfortable. “I just...don’t want to tip our hand, you know? If I don’t go out and do my thing shit could go sideways. I think our best bet is for me to fight like normal and wait for them to make a move.”

Blake leaned to the side to catch the fighter’s averted gaze. “But that’s not it, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Yang.”

“Look, fine, no, ok?” Yang said, the words bursting out of her. “This is probably it, you know? No matter what happens tonight I don’t see this continuing. Either they’ll shut it down or the cops will find out or who knows? But this is it.”

“There was always going to be a last time. Eventually,” Blake said softly.

“Yeah. Eventually. Fine, so it’s tonight, I can live with that. But Blake,” Yang said, pleading with every ounce of her being. “Please let me have this. Let me go out properly. It’s like you said, I'm someone who needs to come back carrying my shield, or on it.” She tried to make the last a joke by adding a half-smile, but Blake was having none of it.

Knowing a losing battle when she saw one, Blake bit back her completely valid argument that they should just sneak out before the fight and looked at the woman before her. There were many reasons why she loved Yang, but her fighting spirit was simultaneously intensely alluring and equally frightening. Searching within herself, Blake knew she would never want to change a thing about her, not even the part that was known as the Dragon. Not that she could anyway, but still. She stepped in and reached up with both hands to grasp the warrior’s high cheekbones. “Yang, you are not to come back on your shield, do you understand?”

“You telling me to throw in the towel before it gets that bad?”

Blake sighed, shaking her head. “No, I know you too well for that. I’m telling you to win.”

A ferocious grin split the Dragon’s face. “You got it.”

\--

Before Yang was halfway through her warmup she heard Roman’s voice rise above the crowd. She hurried to finish her preparations while Blake poked her head out to listen as the challenger was announced, only to pull her head back in a moment later with a look of confusion.

“What’s up?” Yang asked, shaking out her limbs and bouncing from foot to foot.

“It...I’m not sure. It could be nothing,” Blake said.

“I trust your instincts. What is it?” Yang said, stilling her motion.

“It’s just. He’s a faunus. Wolf faunus by the looks of it. Goes by Remus the ‘Alpha’.”

“So? I’ve fought faunus before,” Yang said, going back to limbering up.

“Yeah, but tonight? It just feels like more than a coincidence. Maybe we should bail, focus on the mission,” Blake said, giving voice to the sinking feeling in her stomach that was growing increasingly urgent. “Yang?” she asked uncertainly, but looking at the blonde she realized she had lost her nerve too late.

The Dragon shook her head and laughed. “Don’t worry, we can ask him what his deal is after I kick his ass. Let’s go,” she declared before strutting out the door right as her name blared out from the PA to the delight of the crowd.

Defeated, Blake slunk after the confident figure, hoping that she was wrong.

Knowing she wasn’t.

The entire walk to the stage was a blur to Yang. Something about knowing this was her last night as the Dragon had brought her fully awake before she even reached the ring. The noise of the crowd was dulled to a gentle roar, more like the sound of ocean waves than blood-thirsty fans, while her eyesight sharpened until she felt like she could see the air itself. She was electric, on fire, a dragon in truth ready to lay waste to the rangy man trying to stare her down from the ring. She was so intoxicated on her own power that she never even noticed the muffled cry from just behind her midway through her walk. It wasn’t until she had climbed in the ring and turned to face the crowd that she remembered she hadn’t walked in alone, and to her confusion where there should have been one there were, instead, two.

“Blake!” Yang cried, rushing toward the gate as it was slammed in her face by a bouncer with a menacing grin. Glaring at the imposing masked figure behind Blake she called, “Who the fuck are you?!”

“Go ahead Blake, you can tell her,” the man replied. His mask covered his eyes with a monster's visage but left his feral grin exposed.

“This is Adam,” Blake said through bitter tears.


	24. Caged

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Adam mocked from close behind Blake, shaking her with his one visible hand.

“This is Yang,” she said, misery in every syllable.

The two sized each other up, the fighter noting the horns raking over his crimson hair as he shook his head. “Yang. Hm, not what I imagined my replacement would look like. I must say, I’m not impressed,” he deadpanned, that disgusting grin of his never far from his lips. “Not that it will matter for long. Yang, I’m afraid you’ll be losing this fight.”

“Oh, and what makes you think that?” Yang challenged; the Dragon pushing through her fear and adding defiance to her tone and posture. All of her bravado deflated immediately, however, when Adam swung Blake to the side to reveal his other hand holding a large knife hard against the small of her back.

“Because you probably don’t want your girlfriend to bleed out in front of you,” he said with a cruel laugh as he turned Blake back to face the ring, a look of terror and guilt smeared across her face. “It's simple: you win, I kill her. You lose, I’ll let her go.”

“Don’t listen to him, Yang-“

“Shut. Up.” Adam sneered into Blake’s ear, her eyes going wide as he applied a bit more pressure to the knife.

Yang saw everything go red but fought it down, that wasn’t going to help. Not now. Not yet. “Will you actually let her go if I lose?” she asked.

“I can’t really say,” Adam said, feigning indecision. “But I can say this: I definitely will kill her otherwise. Your choice,” he said as the bell rang. “Oh, you might want to turn around.”

Yang already was, the bell reminding her that there was another opponent she had to deal with who was likely right behind her. But he must have leaped before the bell sounded because before she could complete her revolution a wild haymaker clipped her jaw and sent her spinning to the canvas. As she lay there, vision swimming, a part of her considered just not getting up. The shot she took was hard enough that it would have laid out most, and it would be complying with that sociopath's wishes. Before the Dragon even had a chance to convince her to get up out of a sense of pride a rough hand grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet before shoving her against the cage. Instinct brought her free hand up and she was able to absorb most of the blows raining down on her before they could do any real damage, but she was still pinned against the cage with no clear escape. At some unheard signal, the attacks stopped, and the brief reprieve was broken by the sound of Adam's venomous voice right behind her. So close, but so impossibly far away.

“Don’t even think about trying to throw this fight early. Remus here is one of my best, and he’s been instructed to put on a good show before he finishes you. Oh, and the bouncers have been instructed not to step in, even if things get...messy.”

Yang turned her head, inhaled sharply, and spit into his smug face through the chain link fence, smiling savagely when she saw blood mixed in with saliva. Unfortunately, most of it hit his stupid mask, but it still left him motionless for a moment as he seethed. Collecting himself he looked past her to the man who was increasingly earning boos from the crowd for halting the action. “Remus! I want you to kill this filthy human. Slowly.”

Yang snapped her attention back to her opponent as he nodded his agreement. His dark eyes locked with hers and he smiled wickedly, a faint rocking through his frame drawing Yang’s eyes down to his wagging tail. “Tell me,” he said, his voice deep and raspy. “Do dragons know how to fly?”

Before she could answer he turned and launched Yang toward the other side of the ring so fast she barely had time to brace against the impact with the cage. Her descent to the canvas was interrupted by an explosion of pain in her ribs, and it wasn’t until she was finally allowed to complete her fall that Yang realized he had somehow followed her across the ring and delivered a devastating knee to her side while she was still in the air. Instructions to lose aside, she wasn’t sure she had any chance against such speed and ferocity.

The next handful of minutes dragged on for what felt to Yang like an eternity. Her only goal was to prevent permanent damage and she wasn’t sure she was even accomplishing that much. Every breath was agony from what she suspected were several broken ribs and her arms were aching with every blow they absorbed, though her head appreciated their sacrifice. When the bell rang he threw one final punch, stopping just short as Yang flinched, and laughing as he turned to walk calmly back to his corner.

It took every ounce of determination she had to stand straight and return to hers rather than collapsing in a heap, but Yang managed. She knew that she wasn’t fooling anyone, she had a visibly swollen and bleeding lip on top of several other rapidly discoloring bruises while he looked fresh as a daisy. Everyone knew who was winning, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking beaten until she was. Adam’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter was salt in her wounds, but that was irrelevant compared to the thought of him hurting Blake. She wouldn’t allow it, she would stop him.

She just had no idea how.

She tried to hide her doubt when she looked at Blake, doing her best to send her only reassurance. Blake, however, was completely unmasked, her anguish at watching Yang take such a beating written all over her face. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed, tears continuing to flow silently down her cheeks.

Yang shook her head subtly and then looked at Adam and gestured to her bag. When he cocked his head she rolled her eyes. “My water genius. I’m thirsty. I thought you wanted me to die at your henchman’s hands, not of dehydration.”

Adam considered this for a moment, looking for a trick. Finally, he shrugged. “Blake, get it. No sudden moves.”

As he watched suspiciously Blake retrieved the water bottle and held it up to the cage. It seemed Yang’s gate wouldn’t be opening between rounds so she was forced to bend down and let Blake squirt it into her mouth through the fence. As she did Yang thought furiously, trying to come up with a way out as well as a method to communicate a plan to Blake if she did. Her mouth filled before anything came to her and she rinsed the blood out and spit in the vague direction of the bucket, feeling like she had failed as badly as she just had in the last round. Before she could turn back toward the center of the ring she saw Blake start, even so slightly. She had been replacing the water bottle when her hand had obviously touched something, and as Adam hauled her roughly back to her feet her eyes sought Yang’s while an idea struggled to wordlessly cross the gap between them.

Yang spun as she stood up fully, growling in frustration at her own ignorance. What was in that bag? Not much other than some basic medical supplies. Maybe she was going to do some ninja shit and tie Adam up with ace bandages? Yang shook her head, trying to focus as the bell rang and the big man strutted out towards the center of the ring, crooking a finger at her in a taunting challenge. With a deep breath, the Dragon walked out to join him and prepared to receive another beating.

Fortunately, it only took some of her attention to get the crap kicked out of her. He seemed to be content throwing the same handful of attacks on a loop so after a while, she fell into a routine of blocking and rolling. It was never enough to completely spare her but it softened the blows enough to keep her conscious and mostly upright. Her ribs were giving her real trouble though, and she was starting to feel some instability in her shoulder as he clubbed her over and over again. She knew she was on borrowed time but with no path to victory, her best hope was to delay the inevitable.

The rest of her thoughts were on Blake, trying to decipher what she could possibly be planning. She so focused on what was happening outside the ring that she almost missed it when she saw her first opening. His strikes had been so fast that at first, she hadn’t noticed that the length of his limbs actually left openings, but as she came up from rolling a punch she found herself suddenly and completely inside his guard with a clean look at his chin. In a blink, the opening was gone and she was again flying across the ring, thankful she had been distracted as a successful strike could have pushed Adam to make good on his threat. Still, though, the man across from her wasn’t invincible. In fact, the opening would have allowed her to hit him square in the face, maybe even break his nose.

At that thought, Yang felt something click into place with such clarity that she almost forgot to block the next strike, catching it just in time but missing the follow-up hook to the ribs, grunting as another one cracked. Her internal clock told her there was less than a minute in the round, so she had time. She started bobbing and weaving, presenting a moving target but intentionally building in a predictable rhythm. At the point in her movement where she wanted his attack to come, she added a pause and a feint that left her open. On her third time through the sequence he took the bait, sending a powerful cross blazing for her unguarded face. Yang left herself in place for half a heartbeat before jerking her head back with so much force she took herself off of her feet as his fist landed with a crunch. To everyone watching it looked like he delivered a knockout blow. In truth, he had only ever made contact with her nose, though the explosion of pain there was real enough. Yang made a show of wobbling as she got to her feet, and was pleased when the investigatory hand she placed under her nose came back bloody. Gritting her teeth, she shoved her now-broken nose back into place and waved the shocked Remus on to have another go. As she anticipated, the bell sounded before he got a chance and she blew him a kiss as she turned lightly back towards her corner. The crowd was in hysterics at her antics, unaware that she was cursing softly as she felt her tender nose and blinked her already blackening eyes.

As she approached her corner Adam was scowling at her, suspicious that somehow that blow had landed in her favor. Blake, on the other hand, looked ready to kiss her. She was moved to reach for the medkit when she was brought up short.

“What are you doing?” Adam demanded, looking back and forth between them.

“Her nose is gushing blood,” Blake said. “I’m just getting her some vaseline to block it.”

“Is it going to be like this every time I need anything?” Yang demanded. “I’m not getting a fucking last meal or anything, can’t you at least let me die without blood pouring out of my face?”

Adam considered this. “Fine, but I tire of this game. Do what you have to,” he said, shaking Blake roughly in the direction of the bag.

She slowly reached in, grabbed the small plastic tub, and showed it to Adam lest he think she was reaching for a weapon. He indicated she should continue so she unscrewed the lid and scooped some out with her fingers. Yang came over and poked her own hand through the cage expectantly. Blake placed the blob on her hand, the two holding each other’s gaze as she did so, breaking it as Adam made a noise of disgust. Yang made a point of leaning towards him while she coated the inside of her nose, smiling as he curled his lips and pulled back.

“Do you need more?” Blake asked helpfully.

“Definitely,” Yang said.

Only, she didn’t.

As Blake's hand came out of the jar, covered in a ludicrous amount of vaseline, Yang inhaled as though to spit at Adam again. Seeing this, his hand flew up to make a shield between them, releasing Blake’s arm in the process. Before he knew what was happening she had wiped the oily substance across and into the eye slits on his mask, completely obscuring his vision and drawing a bellow of rage.

He swiped his hand blindly toward where Blake had been standing but she had already danced out of range. He continued to paw at the empty air as he shouted for backup, but with the noise of the crowd, none of his nearby crew could understand what was going on.

Blake dashed toward the ring entrance to try to unlock it but was stopped short by Yang’s cry. “No! I can’t fight if you get captured again. Get out of here! There are more important things to do tonight.”

The words hit Blake like one of the many strikes she had watched Yang absorb all night, but she did as she was told and turned towards the changing rooms and her backpack full of tools. As she took off into the crowd she didn't dare to look back, knowing she’d never stop if she did. Instead, she left the love of her life alone and in mortal danger, with a single, desperate demand: “Don’t lose!”

Yang watched her disappear, amazed as always at how she did so as if by magic, and just barely caught her parting words. As she did she chuckled to herself. “Me? Lose? I’m the fucking Dragon,” she said, intending it to be for herself and only remembering she had an audience when she heard a cruel laugh.

“Tell yourself that all you want,” Adam said, still fuming as he wiped furiously at his mask with a rag he had been given by a frightened-looking faunus sporting the symbol of the White Fang. “You will lose tonight. In fact, you’re going to lose right now.” He looked up, his vision apparently restored. “Remus!” he called across the ring. “Kill her. Now. This round. I will not tolerate failure.” Without waiting for a response he stormed off, shoving his way through the crowd.

“Did you hear that girly?” the fighter called, “Playtime’s over. Time for me to put you away.”

Yang closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She took stock of her body, of her various aches and pains, and how much energy she had left. She replayed every moment of the two rounds, not loving the assessment of the fight thus far but seeing options, potential. She turned slowly, her eyes remaining closed as she planted her feet and squared her shoulders, and balled her hands into fists.

It was the Dragon who opened her eyes, finally free to pay back what had been done to her. “Hey, Beta was it?”

The big man sneered as he drew himself to his full height. “Alpha to you, blondie.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Tough talk for someone who’s been getting tossed around like a rag doll all night,” he snapped. “Though I guess you’re allowed since those were your last words.”

The instant the bell rang he pounced, murder in his eyes. Yang absorbed the first few blows, familiar with his cadence at this point, and easily adjusting to his more frenzied rhythm. He managed to clip her once or twice in his onslaught but nothing landed flush and as he threw a looping hook he found himself off balance, his fist hitting nothing but air. His question was answered before it was asked by a vicious uppercut that caught him square in the nose, staggering him. As he shook his head and pinched the obviously broken bridge he looked down at the grinning woman before him. Bloodied, bruised, both eyes black, she stood like she had been the one delivering a beating all night, and the Alpha felt a small jolt of fear. Snarling through bloody teeth he leaped to attack, but a keen observer would have noted a touch wariness in his movements.

Yang danced through his long punches, all thrown with enough force to knock her out but all missing by fractions of inches. As she snuck inside his reach she loaded up a hook and only just managed to pull up short when she sensed his weight shift as he sent a brutal knee straight for her face. Catching it she stepped back, smiling at the worthy opponent before her, and more intent than ever on defeating him. Her expression unsettled Remus, he was not used to people taking beatings so gamely and found himself in unfamiliar territory.

The Dragon saw his doubt and fed on it, adding it to the pyre that was burning inside her, stoked as it was on pain and fear and anguish. She wasn’t sure if she could win, but she was sure that he would absolutely have to kill her to stop her now. The familiar red fog started playing at the edges of her vision as battle rage settled upon her, and she greeted it like an old friend. No more holding back, no more worry or hesitation. It was time to burn.

And burn she did.

Not waiting for the next attack she launched one of her own, setting up with a swift roundhouse that caught him off guard and landed square on his ribs. This made room for her to move in closer before surprising him with a spinning back fist that caught him hard in the temple and knocked him off balance, drawing his guard up to protect his head. Seeing that, Yang feinted a cross to his face, tightening his shell, before redirecting her force downward and driving her fist into the side of his knee, dropping him to all fours. Here she paused her onslaught, indicating he should stand as she loomed over him disdainfully. Ignoring the shame of it he climbed to his feet, staggering slightly as the weight of her attacks started to take their toll.

He took one last, desperate swipe, but between his now weakened knee and swimming vision his aim was off, and the Dragon barely had to move for him to miss completely before delivering a cross to his jaw that momentarily made everything go white. When his vision cleared he was on his back, the demon of a woman kneeling over him, her fist cocked and her eyes like fire.

“Yield,” she said, the word dropping on him like a stone.

“I can’t,” he said, “If I lose to you Adam will...” He worked his broken jaw silently for a moment as he considered the consequences awaiting him. “You’ll have to kill me.”

Yang looked at him in disgust. “No,” was all she offered.

Then she delivered her blow. Not to kill, simply to incapacitate. Satisfied with her work, Yang rolled off him and walked towards the gate, not at all confident that the men there would let her out. It seemed that the White Fang members had all followed Adam, at least, and the ringside bouncer was looking conflicted as his eyes flicked between her and the cheering crowd. Or at least he was until a familiar mountain of man shoved his way through the mass of bodies to ringside and made up his mind for him.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing Umber?! Let the fucking Dragon out. Now,” Rasher said, towering over the uncertain man.

Yang had never been so happy to see the big bouncer. “Fuck man, about time you showed up. Are you planning on fighting me next?”

Rasher barked out a laugh as he cuffed Umber to speed him along. “Not this time Dragon. I think it would be best if you got the fuck out of here. Like five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I kind of got that sense. Anything else you need to tell me?”

“Nothing you don’t already know,” he said, guiding her out of the ring and through the crowd. “That dame you always bring around sent me in. She said shit was going down and I should get you out, tried to appeal to my sense of honor or some shit.”

“So why are you helping me then?”

“Fuck you Dragon, I got fucking honor up the wazoo. Besides, I like you. Also, she said I could have your winnings tonight if I helped.”

Yang laughed, certain that he was helping for all of those reasons, and not overly bothered that one of them was money. “Yeah well, I probably can’t hang around to collect anyway so it’s all yours, big guy.” As he shoved her through the doors to the changing room and stopped to bar anyone else from entering she looked back fondly at the big man. “Make sure you get your big ass out of here soon, shit’s going to get bad.”

“Yeah, your little friend told me that. She also said...ah fuck it...she also said she loves you and shit, and be safe. Ugh, saying that was gross,” Rasher said over his shoulder, looking uncomfortable at being the go-between for such a tender message.

Yang went back and put a grateful hand on the big man’s arm since she could hardly reach his shoulder. “Thank you, really. And take care of yourself. You can’t spend my money if you're dead.”

“It’s my money, and I’ll be fine. Now get out of here,” he said as he waved her back into her little room.

Yang looked around and saw that the bag of supplies and weapons was gone, confident it was with Blake. She was relieved that their plan was still possible, and felt a pang of guilt that she had almost blown it with her refusal to skip the fight when Blake had suggested it. Worse, she had almost gotten them both killed with her stubbornness. Yang vowed to make it up to her if ( _when!_ she corrected internally) they got out of all this. Rather than waste time beating herself up she quickly grabbed her things, put on her street clothes, and slipped out the back window. Before she was entirely out she heard muffled gunshots and the tenor of the crowd went from jubilant to panicked in the time it took for the echoes of the blasts to subside. Fighting every urge in her body to go back and help, she continued her flight, climbing down from the window onto the dumpster beneath it then down into the alley where she had parked Bumblebee.

Next to the motorcycle lie the unconscious form of a man in a White Fang mask. Yang stooped down to check his pulse, nodding in satisfaction when she felt it. “Tough luck buddy,” she said as she reached for the handlebars and disabled the security system. A few seconds later she felt the comforting roar of her bike coming to life and tore off into the night, guiltily heading away from danger for the second time that night but knowing it was what she needed to do to keep Blake safe.

At the first red light, she put in her headphones and dialed her number, waiting anxiously as it rang. She hung up when it went to voicemail, growling her frustration when she was prevented from trying again by the light turning green. As she raced down the road toward Beacon she found herself sending up prayers to gods she suddenly very much wanted to believe in.


	25. The Spark

Blake crouched on the tarred roof of a nearby warehouse, fishing out her scroll as she watched waves of people flowing chaotically out of the makeshift arena. The first thing that popped up when she flicked open the screen was a missed call from Yang and she scrambled to respond to the no-doubt panicking woman. Sure enough, her call didn’t make it past the first ring.

“Thank the gods, are you ok?”

“Yang, I’m fine. Are you hurt?”

“No, just a little banged up… Sorry, by the way.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“Not listening to you. You said something was off and I should have trusted your instincts. I almost got you hurt and I’m really, really sorry.”

Blake was taken aback. Some small part of her indeed wished that Yang had listened, but she certainly wasn’t going to blame her for everything that had happened. “You don’t need to apologize, and even if you did I think you paid your penance. I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“I am. Are you though? Really?”

Blake considered this, realized the truth. “No. Adam scares the shit out of me. Seeing him made me freeze up, I didn’t even notice he had that stupid knife of his out until it was up against my back. I should have known he would show up, I should have been ready. You got so beat up because of me-“

“Blake, stop. I’m fine.”

“But-“

“No. No buts. I’m fine, and this isn’t on you,” Yang said. “So I guess we know who the ringleader of the splinter group is.”

“Of course it’s him,” Blake spat.

“What was he even doing there?”

“He originally came to check on preparations, but some of the White Fang were jawing about ladies they had seen at various fights, and one description, in particular, caught his attention.”

“Fucking men.”

“Right? Anyway, he staked out the entrance and saw us coming in, so he sent his best fighter to take the challenger’s spot and laid his little trap.”

“He told you all of this?”

“Of course, it was midway through the second round and his ego hadn’t been stroked in more than five minutes, so he figured he’d spell out for me how he managed to destroy my life with a plan he had concocted on the fly.”

“What a prick.”

“That’s a kind assessment. How did you manage to beat that guy anyway? Supposedly he’s one of the best fighters the Fang has right now.”

“Please. I’m the fucking Dragon. Winning is what I do.”

“I wish I didn’t find that cocksure nature of yours so attractive.”

“No you don't.” Yang laughed, but then her tone grew more serious. “Blake, are you sure you’re still good to go? This is kind of a big curveball.”

“Of course,” Blake said, far too quickly. A sudden shiver went down her spine, more from pent up emotion than the cold, especially given the unseasonable warmth. Blake stilled herself inside and out. “This doesn’t change anything, we stick to the plan.”

Yang paused, obviously considering arguing the point but deciding against it. “Sounds good boss.”

Blake snorted at the cheeky tone, “Yeah yeah, don’t make me regret helping you get out of there, smartass.”

“Thanks for that by the way. Not sure I would have made it out the ring without backup.”

“Least I could do, any trouble getting to your bike?”

“Nope, the alley was empty except for one poor fool who got handsy with my ride and ended up zapped.”

“Shit, I must be getting sloppy if I missed one,” Blake said.

“Wait, what?!”

Blake chuckled, “There was a guy prowling around the alley as I left. Don’t worry, he never saw me coming. I didn’t want you getting into any more fights this evening.”

“You really are a ninja. What did you have, a 5-minute head start on me?”

“Something like that.”

“And you managed to sneak out, put a dude to sleep, talk to Rasher, and vanish? Damn,” Blake could almost hear her smile. “You in position?”

“Not exactly. I had to leave in a hurry so I’m not in the crowd, I’m on a rooftop across the street. People are just coming out now.”

“Yeah well, our plans got interrupted a bit. What do you see?”

“It’s like we feared, they aren’t just relying on the faunus for numbers, they’re herding everyone from the fight out together. Looks like they have people with guns in various states of concealment around the perimeter to keep them moving, and they’re funneling the humans toward the front.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Blake agreed.

“Ok, don’t take any unnecessary risks trying to get close. Did you send another tip to the cops?”

“I did, and I’ve seen a few small ships fly over that could have been the police, so hopefully, they believe me now.”

“Hopefully.”

“How long until you get to the lab?”

“I’m going to need another twenty, twenty-five minutes.”

“You’ll have that but not much more. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Stay safe.”

“You too,” Blake said, getting up and seeking a new vantage point as the crush of people started moving down the block. “I love you, Yang.”

“I love you too Blake. Talk soon.”

“Yeah.”

\--

The noisy flood of people marched steadily towards downtown, gaining mass at every intersection. The recruited faunus had done their job, swelling the crowd to over double its size with signs and banners appearing as if by magic and making it clear that any attempts by one lone woman to break things up would be in vain. By the time they got within a few blocks of City Hall, it was quite a protest, with chants and shouted slogans loud enough to drown out the complaints from the humans in front and banners placed strategically to block their view. All the while Blake followed silently, careful not to be seen despite being sure that Adam and his lieutenants were already moving on to their real target. To her surprise, many of the armed White Fang members who had originally been steering things from the fringes had also departed. While fewer guns seemed like it would make violence less likely, something felt off to Blake, and more than once she jumped at shadows as she picked her way carefully toward her destination.

She wasn’t sure if she was comforted or not when she came within view of the building and saw that a police barricade was already in place. She sincerely hoped that the advance notice meant they would be less nervous, more likely to make cool-headed decisions when faced with the chanting crowd rather than react instinctively and provoke violence. The presence of several Paladins immediately soured that hope, however, as their cold metallic visage reminded her of the real threat. All the while the crowd was making its way noisily down the street, the unwilling group at the front corralled by the mass of bodies behind them. It was a tinderbox, all Blake had to do was prevent any sparks.

Great.

Glancing over her shoulder for what felt like the thousandth time that night she began systematically searching the side streets nearest the open plaza, sure that White Fang had hidden their own mechanical troops nearby. After several increasingly frantic minutes, she came up empty. By then the crowd had stormed right up to the police barricade, and she knew she was out of time. Seeing no other option, Blake abandoned her search and found her way to a shadowy alcove near the front of the crowd. Her mind raced as she called Yang, and right before she heard the line connect she counted the towering machines ahead of her and all of the pieces fell into place.

“Yes, I’m ready!” Yang said by way of greeting.

“Yang, we were wrong.”

“About what?”

“The White Fang isn’t going to fight the police as a distraction.”

“What?”

“They didn’t bring any Paladins that I can see.”

“What?!”

“And most of the people with guns split off from the crowd, possibly to head to the tower.”

“Ok, no fight then?” Yang said, sounding relieved as she completely missed the implication.

“No, no fight,” Blake said, creeping closer to the first mech, not loving what she had to do. “It’s going to be a massacre.”

“Fuck,” Yang said, ever the poet. “The humans up front.”

“Exactly. If the police attack, the humans will get hit first, but with this kind of firepower no one is safe.”

“Wait, no weapons in the crowd, no mechs in reserve. Are they just counting on the cops getting itchy trigger fingers?”

Blake recounted, just to be sure, but she already knew the answer. “No. Yang, I looked into it after you brought it up, the cops didn’t have about a dozen Paladins, they had exactly twelve as of last month.”

“Ok...?”

“They’ve got eighteen here tonight.”

“I’m guessing their new additions are unmanned?”

“Yes.”

“This is fucked, the new units will open fire and it won’t even matter if the rest of the cops join in. But why? What’s the point?”

“The CCT, don’t you see?” Blake said, fighting to keep her voice down. “No doubt some news crew will film the whole thing, the entire world will be watching as those ‘police’ controlled Atlas machines start shooting unarmed faunus, then the tower goes offline. Nothing.”

“Ok, fine, but again: why?”

“Yang, think. The last thing people see before an entire kingdom goes dark is the police gunning down innocent civilians. The faunus will take it as an immediate call to arms, Adam will easily take control of the White Fang and maybe even raise an army. Who knows how the population at large will respond? People were already uncomfortable with the militarization of police, this could cause unrest on a global scale.”

“Fucking…fuck!” Yang cried, as Blake’s words sunk in. “Ok, this doesn’t change the plan, it just means all of the targets are on the police side. I’m ready, are you in position?”

“I am, it’s time,” Blake said, calming her nerves and willing her limbs to be swift and silent. “I’m going in.”

She had noted the location of the empty units as she made her approach, but they were spread out across the police line, each one paired with a manned unit. On one hand, Blake had to admit that this was a good move strategically. On the other, she cursed them because it was going to make it damn hard for her to get to all of them in time. 

Blake closed in like a wraith on her first target, her muffled steps lost in the noisy chants of the protestors, the nearby policy all so focused on the seething mass that they failed to notice a lone shadow closing in on their ranks. Right as she was about to reach into her bag for the first transponder a voice in her ear made her jump.

“Blake, don’t forget to check the manned units for overrides.”

Gritting her teeth to bite back a response, the faunus continued creeping forward until she was behind the first pair of mechs. After she placed the device she quickly retreated into the shadows.

“Yang, don’t do that!” she hissed. “Of course I checked, first one is in place and the manned companion unit didn’t have anything on the panel you pointed out on the schematic.”

“Sorry, establishing connection now... got it. Systems are green across the board.”

“Ok, I’m moving on to the next pair.”

“Ok, let me just go through the logs real quick.” There was a moment of silence and furious typing. “Gods dammit. I was hoping for good news but no such luck. This unit is carrying live rounds.”

“Worst case scenario; got it. Going in for the next one.”

“Good luck.”

A moment passed in breathless silence; Blake holding hers so as not to be noticed and Yang unable to draw her own out of fear for her partner.

“Done. Same story with the piloted unit.”

“Good, number two online, looks like both had the same programming: follow orders until they received a signal, then they were set to empty their magazines into the crowd.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Any idea when?”

“No, no timer. Just waiting on a signal. I’ll monitor it but I wouldn’t expect it to give a countdown. Hurry.”

But Blake already was, and shortly the third Paladin was under Yang’s control. The center of the police blockade was filled with numerous officers on foot and six manned Paladins, leaving no obvious route for sneaking in close to get a look at the control panels. With no other option, Blake moved on to the last three pairs. The first two went smoothly, but as she was pulling back from the second group Yang’s voice exploded in her ear.

“Blake! The signal, it’s being broadcast! Now or never!”

Abandoning stealth, she sprinted the final ten yards to the last pair, drawing the attention of the pilot but not stopping as she yanked out a transponder and rammed it home on the final mech. The sound of her blood pumping filled her ears, and as she stood up to try to catch her breath she found herself face to face with a very angry looking pilot in a very large machine.

“What are you doing?” he said, his voice distorted as it transmitted through the machine’s speakers.

“I-“

But Blake never got to finish her excuse, as the mech suddenly whirled around and leveled its guns on the crowd. As she heard the magazine feed start to click she snapped her head down and saw a small cylinder on the back of the unit, almost identical to the ones she had just placed. She reached out and snatched it off, relieved to hear the pilot swearing as he lowered the guns and almost missing the shouting in her ear.

“What was that Yang?!” she yelled.

“I only have five signals, which one is aiming its guns?!” came the desperate call.

Blake looked up, eyes wide and searching for what was startling close. “To the right of the last unit, Yang do something!”

If she had been yelling at a lab rat there might have been a panicked response, confusion, a moment of indecision, but the woman on the other end of the call, a fighter through and through, was already reacting. The sound of a whirring motor and a startling breeze drew Blake’s attention up, and she saw an impossibly large figure bounding gracefully over her to land squarely on the upraised guns of the rogue unit. Several rapid reports came from the barrels, but they were jammed impotently in the ground. For good measure, Yang tore the arms clean off the offending Paladin, and after a brief hesitation smashed its core.

Blake took the opportunity to make herself scarce, watching from a dark alcove as several startled police officers regained their wits and slowly approached the strange scene. The crowd, equally transfixed, had gone eerily silent, everyone staring at the bizarre tableau. The quiet was broken by the sound of several large guns loading rounds, and all eyes turned towards the six Paladins at the center of the barricade and the twelve gun barrels they had leveled at the helpless civilians. As the first shots rang out panicked screams joined with the rapid staccato blasts to fill the previously empty soundscape with a nightmarish chorus.

“Yang, the manned units! We have to-“

“Stay back, I’m on it!” 

The words were still ringing in Blake’s ears when she registered movement from multiple directions. As one, five of the behemoths descended on the cluster in the middle, while the officers on foot stared, horrified and helpless, as their comrades unleashed hell on the crowd. Yang worked furiously to disarm or disable the mechs, violently rending limbs and weaponry while doing her best to spare the pilots furiously entering emergency override codes to halt their still-firing machines of death. After seconds that felt like hours, the mechanical carnage in front of her ceased and Blake was able to see out to the receding crowd. All signs of protest were gone, trampled underfoot as people fled from the onslaught. All but those at the front who lay strewn across the ground.

Moaning?

Blake threw herself from the shadows toward the prone figures. The people on the ground were starting to shift and, in some cases, rise. She moved quickly from person to person, finding broken bones and the beginnings of epic bruises, but surprisingly little blood.

“Yang! Yang! The manned units were outfitted with riot gear. Rubber bullets! The Fang weren't able to sneak live rounds into the piloted ones, it looks like people are ok!” she gasped for breath, waiting to hear shouts of jubilation, but nothing was coming through her earpiece. She tapped it impatiently, “Yang? Did you hear me? We did it! Yang?”

She took her earpiece out and shook it when she was greeted by further silence, but its indicator light still showed a connection with her scroll. While she fussed the person near her let out a whimper, and a loud thud explained why. For the second time that night Blake looked up to see a weaponized robot, inches from her face, but this time nothing stared back at her from the cockpit except her reflection in the glass. While this did little to comfort those around her, Blake let out a sigh of relief.

“Blake,” said the comically robotic voice, “They did it. The CCT network is down.”

As if on cue Blake heard the sound of engines, and looked up to see multiple news ships circling the chaotic scene. “And it was all on camera,” she said, her heart sinking. "No one will see that these people survived."

“We’re losing.”

Though the vocal range of the Paladin was extremely limited, Blake could still hear the anguish in Yang’s words. Nodding gravely, she stared up at the cold machine that was being piloted by the very definition of warmth. “We are losing,” she said, holding herself straight with a confidence she didn’t feel. “but we haven’t lost. Not yet.”

“What’s the plan?”

Blake felt the beginnings of a smile the Dragon would approve of creeping onto her face.

”How fast are these things?”


	26. The Tower

It turned out the answer was quite fast, and Blake was glad all she had to do was hold on in the cockpit as Yang piloted the Paladin down streets and around corners at breakneck speed, weaving and vaulting cars with startling grace. All the while Blake wracked her brain, trying to come up with a way to win.

As though Yang could read her mind a small internal speaker crackled to life behind Blake’s head. “So what exactly are we trying to accomplish here? The White Fang already blew the tower.”

Blake white-knuckled the handrails and closed her eyes as they blasted around another turn. “True, but if they’re still there we can stop Adam, stop all of them, from escaping. With the real culprits in custody, the kingdoms won’t be left pointing fingers at each other. It could prevent a war.”

“If we capture them.”

“Yeah.”

“And if they confess, and if the powers that be listen.”

“Yeah…”

“That’s a lot of ‘if’s, Blake.”

“Well, it's the best I’ve got. Do you have a better plan?”

The mechanical voice was silent as Yang picked her way through a busy intersection onto the final, mercifully empty stretch of road. “No, I just hope that’s your real motivation for running into this fight.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Blake, this is obviously personal.”

“So what? It doesn’t change what we need to do. I’m not a child, I can manage my feelings until this is over.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

In truth, Blake was beyond furious. Years of her life dedicated to righting her wrongs, to undoing the mistakes of her past, and it was all falling apart. Adam had shown up and invalidated it all, as only he could. She had thought that she had grown beyond the scared and easily manipulated girl she had been, but here he was, proving her wrong.

No.

Fuck that.

She could beat him. She would, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone, ever again.

She could do it, and it was time to prove that to herself.

Her heart sank as the tower came into view. Tower wasn’t really the right word for it anymore, more like a flaming pile of rubble. The White Fang had worked for it though, signs of fighting could be seen all the way from the outer gate to the former entryway, and the sound of gunfire could still be heard from inside. Yang launched the mech over the wrecked gate and landed solidly in the parking lot, holding as Blake indicated she wanted to get out. She hopped down lightly, stumbling a bit as she steadied herself after the rough ride and turned toward the robot.

“I’m going in, they probably have more units in there and it sounds like the military could use help.”

“Blake-”

“Yang, go scout the perimeter, they must have getaway vehicles of some sort. Take them out.”

The robot stood in stony silence for a tense moment before responding. “Fine.”

“Were you able to sneak any of the other Paladins away before the cops shut them down?”

“Just one, but since I can’t give it my full attention it’s taking a longer route to avoid detection. Should we wait?”

Blake considered this briefly. “No. We don’t have time. You find the vehicles, I’ll shut down their Paladins.”

As she turned to walk away a large hand reached out and blocked her path.

“Remember your promise. I can’t lose you."

She turned and looked at the cold glass and steel behind her, seeing only the soft lilac eyes that no doubt were looking at her on a video screen several blocks away. She smiled and leaned in to kiss the windshield.

“Good thing you never will,” she replied.

With a soft pat on the side of the large metallic frame, Blake turned and ran towards the smoldering remains of the tower.

\--

Yang watched the lithe figure on her monitor disappear into the wreckage of the building, every instinct screaming that she should stop her.

“Dammit,” she muttered to herself, checking to make sure her microphone was muted as she did. She shifted uncomfortably in the suspended harness she had jury-rigged a few days ago, pulling her right arm out of the sleeve and reaching for her keyboard. The setup was great for controlling a single unit at a time, or several doing the same thing in the same place, but with one over a mile distant from the other, she was forced to issue simple commands and hope the onboard AI could carry them out. A few keystrokes later and her monitor switched to the viewpoint of the automated Paladin that currently believed it was on a patrol route that happened to be taking it to the tower. It was about fifteen minutes away, too far to be much use, and Yang sighed as she set the keyboard down. Before she had her arm back in place an idea struck her and she snatched it back up. After a few quick mental calculations, she updated its route and then switched the monitor back to her unit at the tower.

“Alright, where’d you bastards stash your getaway car?”

At her urging, the mech stomped off in search of her prey.

\--

The inside of the tower was somehow in worse shape than the exterior, and Blake was forced to constantly climb over and around jagged rubble to make any progress. Gunshots rang out down multiple corridors but it didn’t take long for her to find the site of the main battle, still raging in the large and formerly ornate room that dominated the first floor.

On a normal day, the granite hall was usually a somber, quiet space. The hum of many hushed voices was like that of a museum or busy library, the numerous kiosks used for placing calls or issuing queries were almost always occupied. While scrolls and home computers were capable of using the CCT network people still made use of the public facility, which was kept as a reminder that all citizens had a right to access the cumulative knowledge of Remnant. The scene in the room was so far from her peaceful memory of it that at first, Blake wasn’t even sure that’s where she was. But despite the volleys of bullets, shouting, and the overwhelming presence of several more Paladins laying down waves of machine-gun fire, the room was unmistakable.

Blake fled to a corner, getting as far from the focal point of the action as possible so she could try to parse what was happening. When a nearby soldier stood up to fire, barely getting back behind his overturned table in time, the sides became more clear. The Vale military had a similar idea as her and were guarding the door she had just come through. The White Fang was further inside the building, desperately trying to break through and escape. Both sides were reinforced by Paladins, but based on the distance the Vale soldiers were keeping from their own mechs and the clear superiority of the White Fang’s numbers some had been captured by the enemy's overrides. The military had superior numbers and tactics, but the unwavering power of the ten or so mechanized units was having its effect, and the White Fang looked poised to break the line.

Before rational thought could take hold Blake was moving, wending her way through the debris and chaos, doing her best to be a shadow. The soldiers were facing away from her, so it wasn’t until she crossed into White Fang territory that she was noticed at all. Before the surprised fighter could remark on her sudden appearance her billy club was in her hand and he was unconscious at her feet. Crouching to catch her breath she picked out her first target: a Paladin that had strayed away from the others and was pinning down several soldiers on the far side of the room. Blake sprinted as best she could while maintaining a low crouch and slammed an override unit home on its back, hoping that even without a heads up Yang would somehow know. Whether or not she did Blake was pleased to hear the guns wind down and a moment later dove clear as the soldiers turned their fire on the suddenly frozen unit, overwhelming the helpless machine until it was engulfed in flames.

“Not quite the thanks I was hoping for,” Blake muttered as she dusted herself off and looked for her next victim. Seeing no individuals she opted for a pair that was near a convenient pile of rubble that she figured would make for easy ingress and egress. Lunging from cover to cover she dove and rolled the last few feet, coming up behind the oblivious machines. Before either was aware of her presence she had slapped two overrides on them and retreated into the nearby cover. A giddy grin split her face as she slowly rose to admire her work, freezing in place when she felt something cold and metallic press against the back of her neck.

“You lost, girl?” a gruff and unfamiliar voice sneered.

Blake almost laughed as a rush of relief flooded her veins. It wasn’t Adam; this poor fool didn’t even know who she was. “No, I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be,” she said, dropping as she spun around. Her attacker was so caught off guard by the fluid motion that he only noticed his legs had been swept from under him when the back of his head hit the ground. Groaning, he looked up to see a pair of hard, golden eyes staring down at him over the barrel of a black gun that had appeared in her hand.

“Please, don’t kill me,” he said quickly, tossing his weapon aside and holding up his empty hands in surrender.

A snarl curled Blake’s lips, the fear and anger of her night almost loosing themselves on her attacker, but at the last minute, she reigned them in. With a flick of her wrist, she flipped her pistol in her hand and swung the butt of the gun in a practiced backhanded motion, knocking the man unconscious. Hand trembling slightly, she returned the pistol to the holster hidden under her jacket, and with a steadying breath, she looked around to make sure their exchange hadn’t been seen. Content that she still had the element of surprise she sought out a better vantage point to see if her efforts were paying off.

Yang must have noticed the two newest additions as they were in the process of attacking another White Fang Paladin. All three soon lay in a heap, and Blake nodded in satisfaction as she took in the battle as a whole. The odds were tilting heavily in the military’s favor, helped along by the fact that the White Fang no longer seemed to trust their mechanical warriors. A few even went so far as to fire on their own, creating even more chaos and no doubt inspiring the retreat they were trying to orchestrate further into the ruined building.

As they fell back, the White Fang funneled through a large doorway in the back of the room, shielded by a closing wall of their remaining Paladins. From her position atop a display case, Blake could see what the army likely couldn’t: the last few members through the door stopped briefly, one pulling a large object partially out of a bag and fiddling with it before stuffing it back in and tucking it just inside the doorway before fleeing out of sight.

Blake’s eyes went wide, they were covering their tracks with a bomb, a tactic she was all too familiar with, and at the rate the soldiers were advancing they were going to walk right into the blast. Rocking on her heels in horror she thought, but she couldn’t see a way to get through the wall of metallic death that was guarding it, even as two fell to the incoming fire. The remaining pair guarded the doorway stubbornly, buying time that the approaching soldiers didn’t even know they needed. Realizing the time for indecision had passed, Blake leaped from her perch and sprinted for the doorway, hoping that the military’s attack would provide enough of a distraction for her. As she ran she drew the eyes of several surprised soldiers and, she realized too late, the sensors of the two very large robots. She skidded to a halt right in front of them, her passage blocked as they spun to face her and slowly, almost casually, aimed their massive guns at her from point-blank range. For an odd moment, the room fell silent, everyone halting their fire, unsure of this new arrival. Blake was strangely entranced by the lull, overly aware of the fresh paint on the machines in front of her, and the way the emergency lighting glinted off the dust that filled the air, of the acrid smell of gunpowder and sweat and fear and death.

She jumped as the silence was broken. Not by a gunshot, as she had anticipated, but by a thunderous crash to her right; the distinct sound of an unstoppable force telling an immovable object that it wasn’t. The room shook with the blow and everyone looked around in confusion. Even the Paladins seemed to hesitate, which was likely the only thing that saved Blake’s life. The next crash brought with it a wave of debris and dust as a massive form lurched through the wall and immediately tackled the mechs, pummeling them into scrap before they could so much as calculate the trajectory of the incoming assault. The attacker stood up and took in the awestruck soldiers and the lone faunus in front of it.

“Blake, are you ok?” it asked in its ominous monotone.

“Yang, thank the gods! There’s a bomb, I need you to get it out of here!” Blake exclaimed, dashing to retrieve the heavy bag and throwing it to the big machine.

“I’m on it!” Yang said through the speaker, catching the bag one-handed and bounding out through the gaping hole she had made. Seconds later there came a massive explosion, throwing most of the occupants of the room to the floor and bringing down a large portion of the already damaged wall.

Dazed, Blake peered out through the haze of dust into the darkness outside and saw there wasn’t much left of the Paladin. It seemed that she was on her own for the rest of the evening, but she hoped Yang knew that she had saved a lot of lives, and made a silent promise to thank the beautiful hero for each and every one.

Just as soon as the job was done.


	27. Seeing Red

“Fuck!” Yang exclaimed as her monitor flashed white before filling with static. She hurriedly removed both arms from the control rig and, after typing furiously for a few minutes, began unstrapping her legs as well. The Paladin at the tower was either completely destroyed or the transmitter was down, either way, it was useless to her now. A few keystrokes later her scowl eased into a grin.

“Perfect timing,” she said to the video feed showing the front door of her lab. A glance out the window confirmed a large, ominous profile lurking in the parking lot, so she grabbed her jacket, wincing as her very broken ribs flexed in the process of putting it on, and half ran, half hobbled down the stairs toward her ride. She figured that the mech would be able to cross campus in half the time of her motorcycle, and she could only pray that it would be soon enough.

\--

The soldiers seemed to have taken the shock wave of the blast more directly than Blake and most were still shaking their heads and looking around with glazed eyes by the time she recovered. She knew she should wait, but having come so far only to let her quarry escape was unthinkable. With a last, hesitant glance back she turned into the hallway and began her hunt.

It didn’t take long to see that the level she was on was empty, and if there were any exits in the wrecked hallway she couldn’t even guess at their location. That left the stairs. Assuming they weren't tunneling their way out, she elected to search upward. It seemed that at least parts of the rear section had survived the collapse, so she began taking the stairs three at a time, stopping to poke her head out on each floor to listen, counting on her sharp hearing to tell her what she needed to know. The second and third floors were silent and empty, and she almost concluded that the same was true of the fourth until a stray breeze kissed her cheek. Turning her head and ears to meet it she realized she could also make out the faint sound of voices being carried by the wind that was obviously moving through some sort of opening in the outer wall. Hoping to find a stealthy approach she ran up to the fifth floor and opened the door, dismayed to find that the other side was completely blocked by debris.

Left with only one option she slunk back a level and onto the occupied floor, making her way down darkened corridors toward the sound of voices and shifting stone. Zeroing in on a door at the far end of the hall she crept up and pressed her face to the crack. Inside were what remained of the White Fang forces, using hands and weapons to break through a partially collapsed wall with nothing but night sky on the other side. As Blake scanned the room a shadow passed near the door and she stifled a gasp.

“Hurry up, we need to get out of here!” Adam yelled at his men.

“We’re working as fast as we can sir!”

“Work faster! And where the hell are my airships?!” he yelled, his fury making those nearest him cringe as they continued to work.

“Sir,” a large faunus said, taking his hand away from his earpiece. “The airships we brought here have all been destroyed. Backups are en route.”

Adam turned, his rage finding a focal point in the man who had spoken, causing him to cower and shrink despite being almost a head taller and twice as broad.

“They. Were. Destroyed?” Adam asked, his voice a menacing whisper.

“Yes. Sir. It seems an enemy Paladin found them and-“

Before he could finish his report, a gun appeared in Adam’s hand and just as quickly was leveled and fired. The big man stood, clutching his head and waiting for the pain that would signal his death. When it didn’t come he opened one eye and then the other, mystified. Slowly turning his head he found a bullet hole in the wall mere inches from his face. He slowly looked back at Adam, shrinking before the still raised pistol.

“Get this damn wall opened up. And get me airships. Now!” Adam said the last through gritted teeth, punctuated each word with a small thrust of his gun, pointed squarely at the man’s chest. His point made, he holstered his weapon and turned away. Finding no new targets for his wrath he began to pace in the wide berth he had been granted by his frightened subordinates.

Blake was unsurprised by the display, Adam had never tolerated failure well. Whether his or someone else’s, it didn’t matter, he always flew into a rage and sought a target to blame. Never himself, of course. As the person who was usually closest Blake had often been his favorite choice, and she couldn’t help but feel that familiar knot of fear in her chest seeing it again.

A sudden shift brought a large portion of the wall down, drawing a gasp from Blake that was fortunately covered by the accompanying crash of stone and metal. As the opening widened a blinding light shone through, followed by the whine of engines carried along on the rush of wind they were creating. It seemed that one of the desired ships had arrived and was aiming its searchlight directly into the newly formed exit. While everyone else had been studiously focused on their work Adam’s gaze had wandered by chance to the door, where he couldn’t help but notice the glint of light reflected from a widely dilated faunus eye.

“Sir, we only have one ship, it can take half of us now but the rest will have to wait,” his lieutenant announced.

Adam listened to the report with half of his attention, the rest focused on what he had sworn he just saw. “Fine, get as many on board as you can, the rest of us will wait.”

“Sir? Shouldn’t you go on the first ship?”

“No,” Adam said slowly, “I believe I have some unfinished business here.”

The man watched him uncertainly for a moment before shrugging and returning to his comrades to explain the plan and, no doubt, claim a seat on the first ride out. Adam, meanwhile, stalked slowly over towards the door, one hand reaching for a weapon while the other reached for the handle.

Blake was already running. Once she had fought down the urge to freeze when he spotted her, she had immediately hightailed it down the hall. As she turned the first corner a solid thud sounded behind her and she risked a glance back. Adam’s knife was buried to the hilt in the sheetrock where she had been moments before, and the sound of rapid footsteps let her know that he wasn’t far behind.

“You!” he spat, bearing down her and losing ground as he wrenched his blade free. “You did this!”

As she turned another corner Blake heard the sound of steel through air followed by the sound of his knife driving home in another wall. This time she stopped and turned, drawing her own weapon. Adam pulled up short when he saw the pistol, knowing full well that she was capable of using it. He had taught her personally, after all.

“I'm not going to sit by and let you hurt people,” she said as she glared at him over the sites.

“You mean like you hurt me?” he said.

“I...what?”

“You should have been by my side for this, my greatest victory. Rather than betraying me and trying to snatch it from my fingers,” he said, his self-righteous rage building with every syllable.

As he finished his rant Adam pulled his own gun in a flash and opened fire, forcing Blake to dive for cover in a nearby conference room. Fighting down her panic, she locked the door and scanned for options. A small window in the corner drew her eye, and as the door behind her rattled menacingly she bolted for it. She shattered the glass with two well-placed shots from her pistol before pulling off her jacket and using it to dislodge the remaining shards. Without pausing to look back she scrambled through, flinching when she heard gunshots, no doubt aimed at the door blocking Adam's path.

Mercifully, the wall outside was not featureless stone, and Blake’s trained fingers were able to find a hold on the ornamentation up the side. As she swung out the window and found her balance she looked for an escape route. Everything above her was bent steel and flaming death, so she looked down, swallowing her vertigo along with her disappointment as she saw mostly solid stone.

In desperation she cast her eyes further afield, hoping against hope for a miracle. In the parking lot below she saw something that almost made her lose her grip. A Paladin was standing there, and it was waving.

“Yang!” she cried, almost involuntarily.

Realizing she had been noticed, Yang held up one finger, asking Blake to wait. She then walked calmly over to a car, hoisted it, bounced it twice to test its weight, and with a mighty heave sent it flying at the side of the building. She held firm as the vehicle smashed into the wall below her, creating a large hole on the floor below. She laughed despite herself as the giant machine flashed her a thumbs up, and began scurrying down the wall. As she approached the opening two shots rang out above her head, nearly scaring her into losing her hold. A quick look confirmed that Adam had reached the window and stuck his head and shoulders awkwardly through, furiously trying to draw a bead on her. Rather than wait for him to open fire again Blake scrambled the last few feet, swinging wildly into the ruined room and landing roughly.

Right as she spotted a door behind the shattered remains of the car Blake was hit from behind with a force that took the wind from her lungs. Adam, always so fast, had followed and swung through the wall behind her, planting his booted foot in the middle of her back as he did so. With another kick to her ribs, he spun her over, diving away as she drew her pistol mid-roll.

Years of training returned to Blake like an old friend. One that she had grown away from but that still knew all too well. She followed Adam’s roll as she rose to one knee, waiting for the moment when he stood, then snapped off two shots, center mass. Her hands tried to execute the final shot to the head, just as she had been trained to do, but she stopped her finger mid-draw. Instead, she watched as Adam staggered back and fell into the corner, relieved and horrified and amazed at what she had done.

Holstering her gun she backed toward the door, turning at the last possible moment and reaching for the handle. She should have been surprised when she heard the blast, but the only thing that really shocked her was the bullet impacting the wall rather than her head. Mostly she was just disappointed in herself. Of course she had failed.

“Don't move,” he said, grunting slightly as he rose. Blake heard his footsteps grow more steady as he crossed the room, and was disgusted when his hand ran up her side. He was simply seeking her gun, however, and laughed as she flinched before pulling it from its holster and tossing it aside.

Before she could even think about reacting he reached up and grabbed the back of her head, slamming her face into the wall. Her vision went white with the impact, clearing sometime after she collapsed to the floor. Seeing her blinking eyes Adam delivered a savage kick to her ribs, standing back and watching her curl into a ball and fight to draw breath.

“Did you really think I’d come here without armor?” he asked incredulously, pulling back his jacket to show the vest underneath. “You knocked the wind out of me pretty good, but you should have gone for the head; like I taught you. Instead, you went for the heart. Typical,” he tutted, kicking Blake again. When she stopped gasping he crouched over her. “You know Blake, I had almost forgiven you for your betrayal,” he said, ignoring her failed attempt to protest over the pain in her ribs. “But, this? This was one step too far. First, you left me, then you try to destroy my life’s work? No more, Blake. You clearly need to be taught a lesson.”

“Fuck you,” Blake spat, grimacing as she received another kick for her efforts.

“Fair is fair Blake. You tried to take everything from me. You failed, by the way,” he added, ensuring that she was as certain of his superiority as he was. “You haven't stopped anything. But you tried, and that effort must be rewarded in kind. I’m going to destroy everything you love. Everything,” he said quietly, leaning over her. “Starting with that barbarian, that filthy human that you’ve been cavorting about with. That was her helping you all night, wasn’t it?”

Blake laughed, wincing as her ribs flexed. “Sure was, but she’s not here, and the military will find you any minute now, so that plan’s not really going to work out for you.”

“We’ll see about that,” Adam said, grabbing Blake roughly by the arm, hauling her to her feet toward open air.

The Paladin stood watch in the parking lot, and as Adam looked down at it a cruel smile parted his lips. “Let’s test your little hypothesis, shall we?” he said, drawing his knife in a flash and burying it just as quickly in Blake’s abdomen, holding her out as she gasped in pain and shock so she was easily seen from the lot below.

“NO!” came the very human response, a blonde head poking out from the cockpit of the mech.

“Ah, see? She was here after all,” Adam said.

“No,” Blake said softly, finally crying out as Adam pulled the blade from her side and idly shoved her back into the dark room where she tumbled to the ground.

“Yes,” he said, wiping the blade on his sleeve and returning it to its sheath. “Try not to bleed out before she gets up here. I really wouldn’t want her to miss that.”

\--

“No no no,” Yang said, rapidly running through her options. Climbing the building was out of the question, she would never make it. Going up from the inside would take too long. She finally had her hands on the actual controls of a Paladin so she could use its weapons, but how could she guarantee she wouldn’t hit Blake? She stared up at the opening helplessly, until a truly terrible idea emerged, fully-formed in her mind. Not an idea that Blake, or anyone for that matter, would approve of, but she wasn’t exactly in an asking permission kind of mood. If the Paladin could throw a car to the third floor, surely it could throw a person.

Right?

She pulled up the targeting computer, input the data, and received an immediate affirmative. The machine could do the job.

Theoretically.

Yang tried not to think about the fact that a stray breeze or a poorly calibrated servo could leave her as little more than a wet spot on the side of the stone structure while she punched in the command and climbed out of the cockpit, her head spinning as calculations and trajectories were replaced by the thrill of the coming battle. It was as if the two sides of her had called a temporary truce to accomplish what neither could do alone. The engineer fretted over potential mistakes or imperfections but was oddly comforted that Dragon trusted her abilities implicitly, even if it was the first time the two had truly worked together. Yang just hoped their collaboration would prove fruitful, rather than fatal.

“Let’s do it,” she said.

And then the Dragon flew.

For a moment, her injuries from earlier were gone, replaced by the rush of wind and the glorious feeling of being free of the tether of gravity. The latter was short-lived, lost as the ballistic nature of Yang’s flight set in and she began to level off. For one sickening moment she feared she was going to overshoot, but before she even completed that thought she sailed through the opening she had made and bounced roughly across the floor of the room, all of her injuries very much remembered.

Slowly, she staggered to her feet under the slack-jawed gaze of Adam, still rising after ducking at the initial sign of launch, not anticipating that the projectile headed his way had been a human. Blake was in the corner, holding a hand to her bloody stomach and staring at Yang, mostly in awe but with a growing look of horror.

“You sure do know how to make an entrance, don’t you?” Adam said, recovering his composure. “Not that it’s going to make a difference. All you accomplished was making it easier for me to kill both of you.”

His words stoked Yang’s already building rage. She was beyond exhausted and every step, every breath, brought a fresh wave of pain. Her nose still trickled blood from the match and her head still spun from being catapulted three stories in the air, but none of it mattered. Blake’s life was at stake and nothing was going to stop her. As the world went red she let loose a feral scream and pounced, her mighty right hand ready to perfectly transmit every ounce of anger and ferocity and desperation she felt burning in her soul.

She never saw his hand disappear into his jacket, but she did see it reappear, as if by magic, pointing a gun directly at her. Yang, like most people, had never stared directly down the barrel of a gun. Perhaps that was why she didn’t react in fear, or maybe it was simply that she was too committed to her strike, or simply too far gone to rage. Regardless, by the time she registered that he was squeezing the trigger retreat was out of the question. The Dragon could only attack, and so she shifted her strike toward this new threat, some insane part of her believing she could knock the gun from his hands before it went off. That wild instinct saved her life, even if it didn’t play out quite as she hoped.

Her vision flared from red to white as an unbelievably loud roar tore through her ears.

Yang felt as if her entire right side exploded, the pain intensifying when she landed in a heap. She battled to maintain consciousness for a time, but even the will of the Dragon could only do so much before succumbing to the inevitable. As her vision blurred she took one more look at Blake and was sad to see such beautiful eyes filling with tears. She made a mental note to ask why later, then the world withdrew down a dark tunnel and finally allowed her to rest.


	28. Shattered

“No! Yang! No, wake up!” Blake cried, crawling over and gently cradling her still form while trying not to move her shattered arm.

“Not sure that’s going to be happening any time soon, my love,” Adam mocked, circling Blake like a shark tasting blood.

Before she could respond Blake was distracted by a muffled noise. It was faint, but she could just make out the sounds of boots and terse whispers somewhere down the hall. Careful not to draw Adam's attention she shifted her weight, and was reassured when she felt a familiar shape press into her ribs from its hidden pocket in her jacket. His gun was maddeningly out of reach, but if she chose just the right moment she was sure she could catch him by surprise with a strike to the leg, possibly hobbling him long enough for the military to capture him. She could still do it, still stop Adam, maybe even stop the world from falling apart.

But at what cost?

She looked at the woman in her arms, unable to ignore the blood flowing freely from her arm. If Blake enacted her plan Adam would have plenty of time to finish both of them off before the soldiers stormed in. Even if he only killed Blake, time was not on Yang’s side. Two lives sacrificed for the greater good. What was a life worth when millions might be on the line?

_Everything._

Blake blinked rapidly, the memory of the tender look on Yang's face as she spoke the truth of her heart almost too much to bear. It pierced straight through her pain and rage and anguish and left her gasping for breath, the cold air filling her lungs as though for the first time. As the specter of death drew near, Blake finally learned what it meant to be alive. And now that she had it she found she was loath to part with it. Years of building the courage to die for her cause were shoved aside by the overwhelming urge to live. No, not just live, live for something. Someone.

Besides, she had a promise to keep.

With a silent apology to the world she was abandoning, she sought a way out. If she could just make it to the hallway and get behind the soldiers, they might have a chance, but getting Yang past Adam was going to be nearly impossible given both of their conditions. She reached up to clear dirt out of her eye and as she pulled her hand away she examined the smudges she found there with sudden clarity. Ignoring the agony in her stomach she took a deep breath and shouted for all she was worth. “He’s in here! Help!”

Sneering, Adam snapped his head and gun down toward her, intent on silencing her one way or the other, but as he turned he was hit with a handful of fine dust and rock scooped up from the floor of the destroyed room. His mask not only failed to stop any of it from reaching his eyes but also blocked him from being able to wipe it away, and while he struggled Blake jerked Yang to the side, anticipating his blind retaliatory fire. After he finished emptying his clip harmlessly into the ground and before he thought to take off his mask Blake scooped up Yang and ran into the hallway, moving on pure adrenaline and yelling all the while that she was unarmed. The soldiers had apparently heard her first shout and were already legging it down the hall, two of them peeling off to help her while the rest piled in to apprehend Adam.

Before she could drop her, Blake allowed the soldiers to gently remove Yang from her arms. While they slowly lowered her to the ground Blake rifled through her own pockets.

“Ma’am, you’re bleeding.” one of the soldiers said softly, looking at Blake’s bloody shirt.

“Yes, I’m aware, thank you,” she replied curtly, finding the ribbon she sought and positioning it carefully on Yang’s arm.

“Ma’am we should really-“

“Do you know how to tie a tourniquet?” Blake asked, cutting him off.

“I...no, but I think-“

Blake cut in again. “Then we can deal with my wound later, as I am currently busy trying to save my girlfriend’s life.”

This cowed the helpful soldier and he sat back on his heels and watched as Blake went about her business, her eyes hard as she tried to block out her fear and panic and remember the tidbits of field medicine she had picked up in her former life. When she had the ribbon tight enough to at least slow the bleeding she looked up at the silent soldier and nodded. He signaled his partner and together they picked up Yang and headed for the stairs.

At the same time, the rest of the troops returned, shaking their heads.

“Did you get him?” Blake asked, knowing the answer before they responded.

“No,” one of the men responded, “He jumped as soon as we entered, by the time we got over to the edge he was gone.”

Blake gritted her teeth but said nothing. She didn’t regret her decision, but some small, greedy part of her had hoped she could have both. Unfortunately, she lacked the time for doubt or self-flagellation; she was still occupied with the task of surviving the night. Most of the soldiers formed up to continue their sweep, but a handful took up positions around Blake and the two men carrying Yang. Blake couldn’t even find it in herself to protest, and simply nodded her thanks as they all made their way down the stairs, one of the soldiers wordlessly stepping in to help her when her knees nearly buckled partway. They made their way slowly out through the ruined building to the front entrance, where police and EMTs were waiting for them in droves, and headed for the nearest ambulance. While Yang was being loaded onto a gurney Blake leaned wearily against the cool metal side of the ambulance, barely acknowledging the officer who chose that moment to approach her.

“Ma’am, I’m sure you’ve been through a lot this evening, but as you can imagine we have a lot of questions for any non-military personal who were present during this attack.”

“I, uh-“ Blake began, panic gripping her as she realized there was a high probability that questioning would end in incarceration.

She was saved by the appearance of a medic. “Officer, this woman is wounded, you’ll have to question her later.”

Blake allowed herself to be steered into the back of the ambulance where Yang was laying, shrugging innocently at the perturbed cop as she went. Then the door was shut and they were flying down the winding road to the hospital, Blake stifling a giddy laugh at the absurd juxtaposition of her current ride with the one that had proceeded it. After assuring the medic she wasn't in shock, her wound was declared largely superficial and swiftly patched up, though she was told that she would need several stitches. Despite nodding along at all the right points Blake heard little, all of her attention stolen by Yang’s frighteningly pale skin and the reddening bandage that had been placed on her arm.

When they arrived a team immediately descended on Yang’s gurney, transferring her to a hospital bed and whisking her off towards the OR while various tubes and needles were jabbed in her good arm. When Blake tried to follow a nurse held her back and explained that she would be informed immediately when she was out of surgery. Upon further inspection, the nurse noticed Blake’s own wound and sternly directed her toward triage.

Petulantly she relented, and after an agonizing hour of being poked and prodded by various nurses and doctors and pumped full of fluids to help with the blood loss, she was finally stitched up and allowed to move to a waiting room.

There she sat, regretting her stubborn refusal of pain meds. At the time she had said no for fear that she wouldn’t be able to stay awake if she took them, but the frequent sensation that some horrid beast was ramming its claws into her and fishing around for its favorite organ posed a strong counterargument to her hasty decision. After finding that no positions were comfortable she settled on pacing slowly around the small room, glad that she was alone for the moment but increasingly miserable as the time ticked by and no one came to update her. Late night subtly became early morning, not that Blake could tell in the windowless room, and she was forced to sit when her legs became unsteady. Despite the pain and fear and uncertainty, her exhaustion could not be denied, and without wanting or meaning to, she slept.

\--

“Blake. Blake, wake up,” said a vaguely familiar voice as it cut through her dark and dreamless sleep. A sharp pain in her side made her flinch, causing the hand that was gently rocking her shoulder to pull back in alarm. Opening her eyes blearily revealed Ruby, dressed in scrubs and looking worried and confused, her eyes continuously flicking to the top of Blake’s bare head.

“Blake, what happened? Also, have you always been a faunus?” she asked, never one for guile.

“Yes, I have,” Blake replied dumbly, her mind still thick with sleep. The first question took longer to make its way into her mind and when it did she shot to her feet, regretting the move immediately as a new wave of pain ripped through her body. “Yang! She’s in surgery, what time is it?”

“She’s what?! It’s five, I just got here for my shift and everything’s crazy because of the CCT tower, I hadn’t heard that Yang was in surgery. Blake, what happened?” the young girl asked, panic doing battle with her attempt at professionalism, the latter too new and untested to compete with the power of the former.

“Ruby, Yang was shot last night.”

“She was what?!” Ruby shouted, all attempts at composure abandoned.

As Blake tried to come up with an explanation the door swung open and an exhausted surgeon stepped out.

“Blake?” she asked, looking at the two women, recognizing Ruby with surprise. “Miss Rose?”

“Dr. Goodwich, what’s going on?”

The woman hesitated for a moment, “Miss Rose, I cannot discuss private patient data-“

“She’s my sister!” Ruby shouted, covering her mouth as she realized she had just yelled at one of her attendings.

Dr. Goodwich looked stunned. “The patient is your sister? Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t… Well, that changes things.” She seemed to need a moment to absorb the new information after what was no doubt a long and arduous night, but then she regained her train of thought. “Please, won’t both of you sit?”

Blake complied slowly, reaching out to take Ruby’s hand and guiding her toward the chair next to her when she didn’t initially follow. Once they were both settled the doctor took a seat opposite them and began.

“First I want to say that Yang is doing fine, she’s in stable condition and I expect her to recover well.”

“When will we be able to see her?” Ruby asked at the first hint of a pause.

“I’ll let you back in a moment but she won’t wake up for some time, she lost a great deal of blood last night and right now she needs to rest.” She held up her hand, stopping Ruby before she could interject again. “That’s not all,” she said, and when she saw she had their attention went on. “To catch you up Miss Rose, she was shot last night, but the bullet took an unusual trajectory. It entered from her hand and after traveling up her arm and shredding a portion of the radial artery it deflected off of and shattered the head of her humerus. The shooter must have been very close given the burns on her hand, so in many ways, she was incredibly lucky. Add to that the improvised tourniquet she came in with and her blood loss was far less than expected, and she should suffer no ill effects. That said, between the damage from the bullet and the tourniquet itself we couldn’t save her arm and had to amputate.”

Ruby gasped, then tried and failed to stifle a sob. Blake reached over and pulled her into a sideways embrace, offering the comfort that she herself desperately needed at the moment. When she saw that Ruby was in no place to respond she did so in her stead. “Thank you, Doctor, we appreciate everything you’ve done for Yang.”

Dr. Goodwich nodded, her lips pressed tightly together, a sad glint in her eyes. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t bring better news. This will no doubt be a big shock for her when she wakes up, and she’ll need help and support adjusting to her new reality, especially from those closest to her,” she said, her empathy genuine even if the words felt practiced. “Ruby, you know the way to the recovery rooms, right?” she asked, smiling wanly when Ruby nodded and stood. “Good, you head back, I need to have a brief word with Blake.”

Ruby looked quizzically at both of them, but her need to see Yang overrode her curiosity and she beelined for the door leading to her waiting sister.

“Blake, I’ve been told that there are policemen in the hospital asking after you. But with the CCT network down things are kind of chaotic here, so the nurses have been able to give them the runaround. It seems no one felt right sending a wounded woman, waiting on someone even more grievously injured, away to be questioned by the police. That said, we can’t stall them forever.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Blake asked, surprised at the unseen help she had apparently been receiving all night.

“Just thought you should know. Now go on, I’m sure you’re anxious to see Yang.”

“I am," Blake said as she slowly rose. "And thank you again Dr. Goodwich.”

“You’re most welcome Blake.”

\--

The dam Blake had erected around her tear ducts burst the second she saw Yang laid out on the bed. The gown, the pallor of her cheeks under blackened eyes, the tubes and wires arrayed around her still form, and of course her arm. It was one thing to claim to know that Yang was as frail as anyone else, but seeing the reality of it, the awful truth that she was mortal, that the mighty Dragon wasn’t invincible after all, was too much. Blake collapsed into the nearest chair as every thought was swept from her mind by a flood of tears. Ruby crouched by the side of the bed, the whole world lost to her save for her sister, her big silver eyes locked on the prone figure as though afraid if she blinked she would find the bed empty. They stayed like that for a time, neither able to speak or move to break the awful spell.

The aching silence was interrupted by a beep from Ruby’s pocket, and she looked as confused as Blake when she opened her scroll to check the alert.

“It’s Weiss,” she said softly. “I guess they got the emergency backup network going, I’ve got an alert saying local comms only. I’ll let her know... you know.”

“Oh, yeah,” Blake said blankly, still lost in her grief and guilt.

In seemingly no time Weiss strode in, looking immaculate and composed to those who didn’t know her, but for those who did there was just a touch of redness around her eyes, just a hint of tension in her jaw, and a myriad of other minuscule signs giving her away. When her gaze fell on Yang her mask faltered, only to be replaced by one of fury as she wheeled on Blake.

"You!" she accused, her finger aimed at Blake’s nose like a fencers foil. “What happened?”

“Whoa, Weiss, what’s your deal?” Ruby said, stepping in between them. "It's not Blake's fault."

But she was too late, all she could do was turn and wonder as the simple question left Blake shattered, her eyes going wide as the horrible truth of it all seeped in through the spidery cracks in her soul. What had happened was she broke the silent vow she had made to Weiss months ago by dragging the woman she supposedly loved into danger. She put her personal crusade above the well-being of the one she had sworn to protect, and her psychotic ex had tried to kill them both as a result. Now Adam was out there somewhere, still free to carry out his plans and hellbent on hurting everyone she cared about in the process. Worse, the cops were likely trying to lock her up and possibly implicate Yang and even Weiss in the mess she had created. She fought the urge to flee, knowing it would solve nothing, but as she looked at the confused silver eyes before her and the furiously icy ones beyond she realized that staying would be far worse.

“It is my fault,” she whispered, backing toward the door. “It’s all my fault.”

“Blake, what are you talking about?” Ruby asked, looking between the two and growing angry as she realized they weren’t telling her something.

Weiss stepped around Ruby, clearly winding herself up for the rant to end all rants, but Blake cut her off, a third option taking shape in her mind. “Weiss, Ruby. Take care of Yang.”

Ruby shook her head, not understanding. “What-?”

But Blake was already gone, vanished into thin air as though she had never been there at all.


	29. Epilogue: A Not So Sweet Sorrow

When Yang finally awoke Ruby and Weiss were there, and Blake was not. In many ways, she took the revelation of her missing arm more gracefully than Blake’s absence. After several rounds of circular questioning and intermittent pleading that she be allowed out of bed to search for her, sure that she hadn’t actually left, she became sullen and largely unresponsive.

A police officer stopped by on the third day of her hospital stay to ask her a few preliminary questions about the night the tower fell. When he received nothing but assurances she couldn’t remember a thing he stared at her through narrowed eyes for a while before shrugging and flipping his notebook closed. As he left he told her not to leave the city for the time being and promised to be in touch when she was discharged.

A few days later she was, and Ruby wheeled her out to the curb where Weiss was waiting in her car. For the first several blocks, the ride home was a three-part harmony of silence. Ruby set the beat from the rear seat, her usual bubbly chatter absent in favor of flitting glances between the other two as she oscillated between anger at being left out of something important and concern for the well-being of her sister. Weiss’s counterpoint was delivered by the words she wasn’t saying but obviously wanted to, punctuated by frequent, purposeful inhales meant to carry a question or defense or self-righteous declaration, but all released as impotent puffs of air as she was wracked by wave after wave of guilt.

Both of these were drowned out by the deafening melody of Yang’s detached stillness. She seemed to radiate emptiness and darkness and loss, and was surrounded by such a profound lack of sound that it seemed to smother any that came too close, crushing them under the weight of despair that oozed from every pore. Her eyes were dry, but only because she had cried every tear her body had to offer, finding no relief in release. All that was left was a void, a hunger in her soul for nourishment that was never coming.

That, and silence.

If it had been up to Yang, she would have worn her silence like armor for the rest of the ride, if not longer. But she was not alone in that car, and Ruby had decided she had enough of being left out.

“Yang?” she ventured, receiving only the barest acknowledgment she had been heard but going on regardless. “What really happened that night?”

Her sister met her gaze in the rearview mirror briefly before looking back out the window. “What do you mean? I got shot.”

Ruby wilted at her caustic tone but refused to give up now that she had her talking. “But that’s not all. You also had a broken nose and several fractured ribs, not to mention about a hundred contusions.”

Yang blinked in surprise, almost having forgotten the brutal fight she had endured beforehand. “Oh. That.” She briefly considered lying but found she no longer had it in her. “I was in an illegal cage fight.”

“What?!” Ruby cried.

“Why?!” chorused Weiss.

“Because that’s where I go on those nights I say I’m out dancing. Or at least, that’s where I used to go,” she added the last bit quietly as she looked at the remains of her right arm.

Ruby sat back hard in her seat, her mind racing as she absorbed what she had heard. “But why? Why would you do something like that? And why lie?” she pleaded, begging for an answer that would somehow explain such a deception.

“I lied because I knew you would stop me,” Yang said flatly. “And why did I do it? I don’t know. I guess it’s just who I am, or at least who I was. I couldn’t imagine living without it, still kind of can’t.”

Ruby held her hand to her face as though she’d just been slapped. Their whole lives they had been so close, concealing nothing, or so she had believed. She thought she knew everything about her big sister, but here was this entire life she had been hiding, potentially for years. Obviously she would have stopped Yang if she had known, but hearing the raw truth in her declaration made her realize that she might have been wrong in doing so. Rather than try to untangle something so difficult she tried to refocus on the question at hand. “But I don’t understand, is that why you were at the tower?”

“No,” Yang said, hesitating as she tried to find a version of the truth that didn’t implicate Weiss.

“Well?” Ruby prompted.

Recovering, Yang laid bare all that she had kept secret over the past months, from Blake’s past to her investigation and the lurid details of the night of the attack. Long after Weiss had pulled into their driveway and turned off the engine she was still speaking, leaving out nothing save for a certain ex-heiress's involvement in it all.

“Ok, so why not tell the police all of this?” Ruby asked when she had finally finished.

“Because I have no evidence, Ruby, other than proof that I hacked military hardware and destroyed public property. I don’t want anyone to get in trouble for what I did,” she said, furtively looking at Weiss, whose guilt was written all over her face.

Ruby turned slowly, staring daggers at her friend. “You knew, didn’t you?” she accused, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion.

Weiss’s hand flew to her mouth as she stifled a sob, nodding miserably when she found she couldn’t speak.

“How could you?!” Ruby shouted, addressing both of them to some extent but still glaring at Weiss.

“Whoa, Ruby, easy,” Yang interrupted, turning to face her. “I needed her help and I asked her not to say anything to you.”

“I should have said no,” Weiss moaned. “This is all my fault.”

“Weiss. Stop,” Yang said. “It’s not your fault. We would have gone ahead with our plan anyway, and because of you a lot of people were saved.”

“Oh, so we’re calling this a victory?” Ruby snapped.

“No. Fucking obviously not!” Yang shot back, “We got our asses kicked, almost died, and in case you missed it, I became left-handed.” As her anger abated she went on more gently, “But we still saved lives, in no small part because of Weiss’s help.”

“I can’t believe you, either of you,” Ruby said miserably. “I’m not a fucking child anymore, you can’t just keep things like this from me.”

“Rubes, I was just-“

“‘Just trying to protect me’, yeah Yang, I know,” she sniped. “That doesn’t excuse lying to me, especially about something like this. And you,” she said, turning to Weiss with renewed fury. “I thought we were…I thought you cared about me, I thought I could trust you.”

“You can, I never meant-“ Weiss began, but Ruby had built too much momentum to be stopped.

“I don’t care what you meant! What you did was hide things from me that could have gotten my sister killed.” With that Ruby threw open her door and swung out, pausing to lean back in with an oddly vindictive look in her eyes. “Are you going to tell Yang why Blake left, Weiss? Or should I?” After she felt certain her point had landed Rub slammed the door with every ounce of strength in her diminutive form and stormed into the house.

“What…what did she mean by that?” Yang asked hoarsely, watching her sister through the windshield.

“I…” Weiss said, shrinking back and preparing for another onslaught of yelling.

“Weiss?”

“When I saw you in that bed, I just…I was so mad!” She cried, the visceral memory of the evening sweeping through her. “She dragged you into that mess and almost got you killed. So yeah, I may have yelled at her. Honestly, though, I barely got anything out before she was gone.” Weiss looked at her friend miserably, praying for mercy. “Yang. I’m so sorry.”

Yang didn’t yell at her, but neither did she absolve her of her guilt. Instead, she shook her head and climbed awkwardly out of the car, her silence wrapping itself back around her in thick, grasping tendrils as she dragged her feet towards the house.

Weiss remained in the car alone, so terribly alone, clutching herself tightly until her weeping stopped and her ragged breath became more even. Looking up at the house that suddenly felt nothing like home, she fought back another wave of tears and braced herself to go inside.

\--

The three roommates spent the following week avoiding one another. All classes were canceled and most campus buildings were closed while the wreckage of the tower was being investigated and cleared, leaving Yang and Weiss to dance around one another in the small house while Ruby spent far more time than strictly necessary at the hospital.

The weekend came with little fanfare, especially as it held no distinction from the week for Yang. She slept late before trundling down the stairs, keeping an eye out for movement in case she needed to retreat to her room. When she was met with an empty and silent living room she continued to the kitchen, growing uneasy when she found no one there either. It wasn’t surprising that Ruby was still asleep, she often caught up on rest during her rare weekends off, but Weiss? She should have been up long ago.

The answer to Yang’s unspoken question was found within a neatly folded slip of paper placed intentionally in front of the coffee maker. Opening it slowly she began to read the perfect and flowing script within, her heart sinking as she did.

>   
>  My dearest Ruby and Yang,
> 
> I’m sorry to tell you like this, but I’m afraid I’m returning to Atlas. My advisor at Beacon was unable to guarantee that classes would resume in time for me to complete my degrees this term, so I’ve had to look for other options. A letter arrived yesterday in response to my query, and the dean of the law school at Atlas University has agreed to let me complete my studies there with assurances that I will graduate on time. Likely as a favor to my family, but desperate times and all that.
> 
> I would have told you in person but, well, we haven’t exactly spoken much recently. I’m so, so sorry for everything. For lying, for inserting myself where I wasn’t wanted, for hurting both of you, and for running off like this. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope that someday you might both offer me a second chance.
> 
> On an unrelated note, I’ve paid off our rent through the end of the year. I’ve been setting aside money for a while in hopes that we could all buy a house together when we graduated. Silly I know, but it was something that kept me going when work felt like too much. Anyway, this isn’t meant as an attempt to buy your forgiveness, I just wanted there to be one less thing for you two to worry about given everything that’s already going on.
> 
> Hopefully the network comes up soon, or if not perhaps we could exchange letters. I’m going to miss both of you terribly and I’d really love to hear from you whenever you're ready. Please.
> 
> Love always,  
>  Weiss

Yang reread the note, trying to summon the appropriate reaction, but the numbing shell she had constructed around her heart over the past week was doing its job too well. At least it was until she turned to see her sleepy sister staring up at her from the doorway to the kitchen.

Wordlessly Ruby closed the distance between them and snatched the letter from her, reading it with gradually widening eyes and quickening breath. When she finished she pushed the page angrily back into Yang’s hand and turned back toward the living room, pausing when she heard her sister’s plaintive call.

“Ruby, wait.”

“Why?” she asked over her shoulder. “Do you need to tell me about something else you’ve been hiding from me?”

Just like that the Yang felt her walls go back up, her outstretched hand falling limply by her side. “No.”

“Then I think I’m going to back up to my room,” came the chilly reply.

“Whatever,” Yang mumbled, turning to fumble through the process of making coffee while her sister stomped back up the stairs.

\--

A few weeks passed with Yang doing little besides sulking on the couch or in her bed. During that time her lab was reopened, prompting her to return if for no other reason than to shove her incriminating equipment into her broom closet of an office. Once that was done she found herself unable to do much more than stare blankly out the window for the rest of the day, ignoring every attempt by her labmates to draw her into conversation. Seeing her malaise, Dr. Polendina gently suggested she take a leave of absence for as long as she needed, promising that her spot in the lab would be waiting for her when she was ready. Yang accepted without complaint or any indication of when, or indeed if, she would return.

One day a letter arrived claiming that the police had all the information they required and Yang was no longer needed for questioning. As such, she was free to come and go from the city as she pleased. While some part of her was mystified at this it was a small, quiet part, a part from her past when she was inquisitive and brave and whole. The rest of her shrugged and took it as it a sign that she could leave, which she had desperately wanted to do since being discharged. Vale and her home there held too many painful memories, things she needed distance from. Now free to seek that distance, she started packing her bag and bought a ticket on the next airship out. In the time since the tower had fallen crews had set up numerous repeaters that provided shaky communication from Vale to nearby regions, so she was able to get a message to Tai letting him know when to pick her up. Fortunately Ruby had contacted him while Yang was still in the hospital, so she didn’t have to explain her sudden arrival or the state she was in.

Ruby came home as she was preparing to leave, watching her with an inscrutable look as she came through the door. “Going to Patch?” she asked finally.

Yang looked up as she finished zipping the duffle and nodded. “Yeah, I just need to get out of here. To…heal.” She realized as she said it she wasn’t exactly sure what from, but there were enough things on the list that leaving it vague seemed appropriate.

“When will you be back?” Ruby asked.

A honk from outside drew Yang’s attention. “My ride is here, and…I don’t know. I’ll keep you posted,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder and awkwardly reaching for the door. As she pulled it open she met Ruby’s eyes and saw pain and sadness there that mirrored her own, but she couldn’t find the words to bridge the gaping chasm between them. As the moment stretched they both scrambled for something, anything that might remove the wedge keeping them apart. Before they could the moment was broken as the driver outside sounded the horn a second time.

“You should go,” Ruby said, casting her eyes down.

“Yeah,” Yang agreed quietly. “See you, Ruby.”

As she closed the door behind her she never heard her sister’s response, whispered through tears to an empty house.

“I love you.”

\--

“Hey Firecracker, it’s good to see you,” Tai said, hugging her carefully and drawing her ire.

“Dad, don’t treat me like I’m made of glass. I’m fine.”

“I know kiddo, I’m sorry,” he said, giving her a slightly firmer hug.

Yang rolled her eyes and squeezed him hard enough that he had to laughingly cry uncle. Then he tossed her bag in the back of his old truck and then started the drive home. Yang felt bad for not being her usual talkative self, and she could tell that her dad was unsure of how to approach her. He tried several times to strike up a conversation about nothing, hoping that something would catch and they could eventually circle around to the harder stuff, but when all of his attempts came back dead on arrival he sighed and went for the direct approach.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

After weeks of trying to numb herself to the pain and rage roiling just below the surface his question caused something in Yang to snap. “Talk about it? Which ‘it’ do you mean? The part where a psychopath shot off my arm? Or the part where...” No, she wouldn’t say her name. “Where...” And she refused to cry. “Where she left me?!” Yang conceded that one out of two wasn’t bad, but the burning tears coursing down her face did little to cool her anger.

Tai took the outburst in stride, nodding slightly and keeping his eyes on the road. The pair a long history of having emotional and sometimes heated conversations while driving. Something about the motion and the enclosed but simultaneously expansive space helped them both express themselves and allowed room for their tempers to flare and subside without feelings getting hurt. When Yang had calmed slightly Tai spoke up.

“Either.”

“No.”

“Ok,” he said, nodding his understanding. “But I’m here when you want to.”

“I…thanks, Dad.”

But Yang didn’t want to. Despite sitting next to the one person who knew better than anyone what it was like to be left, she had no urge to talk at all. Instead, she stared out the window at the setting sun, and let herself be carried back to her childhood home in silence.

\--

“Here’s your tea, Miss Belladonna. May I call you Blake?” the newest visitor, or rather, interrogator said, sitting as he placed the steaming mug in front of her.

“Oh, thank you,” she responded absentmindedly, only registering the question a moment later. “And sure, why not?” she added. She wasn’t handcuffed anymore but she couldn’t stop staring at the sturdy ring on the table in front of her to which she had been shackled not long before. She was further distracted by the large mirror that was obviously a window for hidden observers, wondering who could have been staring back at her from the other side for the hours she had spent sitting and answering questions. Despite having a long rap sheet it was her first time in an interrogation room, and despite assurances that as long as she continued to cooperate she wasn’t going to be arrested the ambiance was not putting her at ease. In her distraction, she missed whatever the man across from her had said, and was surprised at how genuinely gentle his smile was as he repeated himself.

“I said that we were able to confirm much of your story. Some of your information is out of date but it’s clear that you’ve been telling the truth.”

“I didn’t come here to lie, Officer...?” so many had been in and out of the room since Blake had walked into the Vale Police headquarters that she was struggling to remember if she’d spoken to this man yet.

“It’s Director, actually, Director Ozpin,” he said, smiling as he took a sip of his own mug. Coffee, Blake noted, black. “Of the Remnant League of Inter-kingdom Cooperation,” he added.

Blake shot to her feet and backed away, starting when she came up against the wall behind her. RLIC (pronounced 'relic' by those in the know) was one of many organizations created by the treaty at the end of the Great War. Despite its cheery name and peacekeeping directive, RLIC was an organization known for operating from the shadows and accomplishing its mission at any cost. They were a boogieman to the White Fang, tales of encounters with their agents were used to spook new recruits into following orders, and every retelling led to more and greater embellishment. The one thing that every story seemed to agree on is that anyone who was caught by them never returned. Ever. And here, directly across the table from Blake in the very small, very locked room, was the head of it all. “Director?” she asked, trying to shrink back into the wall itself.

“Yes, Director. The fall of the Beacon CCT Tower has jumped to the top of our priority list, so when our liaison here heard that a former member of the White Fang turned herself in and claimed knowledge of the attack he notified us immediately. Once your story had been verified it was brought to my attention. I’m here to ensure this situation is handled… properly.” When Blake remained frozen in place, he gestured toward her vacated chair. “Won’t you please sit, Blake? I’m aware of my organization’s less than friendly reputation, but I assure you that we are on the same side.”

Blake nodded hesitantly and slowly returned to her chair, slumping as the full weight of her situation bore down on her. While Director Ozpin waited patiently she reached for her mug, sipping at the steaming tea and trying to draw what strength she could from it. She knew she was in too deep to turn back, and there was far too much on the line. Gathering her nerve, she looked up at the man before her. “I hope you’re right,” she said, forcing herself to ask the question burning away in her mind. “Did you get my list of requests along with my information?”

Director Ozpin chuckled, but Blake could detect no hint of enmity or condescension in it. “I must say, I was rather surprised to see your list of, as you say, requests. It’s very specific, very direct. One might mistake them for demands.”

Blake’s blood ran cold, afraid she had overplayed her hand, but it was the only one she had. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I came here, I turned myself in because it’s important.”

The Director waved her off and she fell silent. “Please don’t misunderstand, I was more impressed and amused than upset. We will do what we can.”

Blake felt hope blooming, but wouldn’t settle for vague promises. “What can you do?”

“Right to the point I see. Alright. The first request is being handled already. Miss Xiao Long is no longer a person of interest in the case, nor is Miss Schnee. Whatever you may think of our reach, I cannot control what the Atlas Military or Schnee Dust Company do in either regard. That said, we will do our best to… muddy the waters a bit if either launch an independent investigation.”

Blake chewed this over for a moment before accepting it. “Fair enough.”

“Glad you think so. We have taken over control of the investigation into the attack on both the tower and the people at City Hall from local police. With all of the information you have provided, plus your agreement to cooperate going forward, questioning the other two young ladies seems superfluous. No need to trouble ourselves with extra paperwork,” he said conspiratorially. “The second request-”

“That Yang be kept safe.”

“Right.” He paused, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I appreciate that Adam Taurus represents a significant threat to any who cross him, and I believe you that he threatened her life, but we cannot spare a full-time detail to protect her. Nor can VPD.”

“If you don’t protect Yang I won’t help you.”

“Please, Blake, let me finish. We have agents who will keep tabs on her, and more importantly, we are doing our best to track and apprehend Mr. Taurus. I believe the best way you can protect Miss Xiao Long is by helping us do so as quickly as possible.”

Blake considered this, her eyes drifting back to the mirror, wondering again who was looking back. “Fine, I guess that’s enough. But if she gets hurt...again...our deal is off.”

“Understood,” Ozpin replied quietly, studying the nervous girl across from him intently. “I must admit, what surprises me most of all is that you never once asked for immunity. Why is that?”

“Why should I?” Blake asked. “You’ve seen my confession, I deserve what’s coming to me.”

“Perhaps, but what’s coming to you is not jail time.”

“I…what?” Blake asked, not sure she had heard correctly.

“Blake, I believe you can be extremely helpful in this investigation. Putting you in a cell would be an extraordinary waste of your abilities.”

“What did you have in mind?” she asked, not quite daring to believe that she might be allowed to go free.

“A form of protective custody, but one with a few strings attached. We’ll set you up with a new identity, a new life, but you’ll be given assignments that make use of the type of information gathering that you’ve proven so…adept at.”

“This sounds more like a job than protection.”

The Director gave a half-smile. “I suppose it is,” he granted.

“Doesn’t feel like I'm being given much of a choice, either.”

Ozpin shook his head sadly. “Blake, if it were up to me, I would throw open that door and tell you to return to your life, but I am not all-powerful. When you came in here you announced your identity, and nothing can put that genie back in its bottle. Even with communications down, I do not doubt that news of your arrival here will reach ears around the globe in a matter of days. When that happens you will have kingdoms calling for your extradition so that you may be tried for your past crimes as a member of the White Fang. I don’t want you to end up in some frozen Atlas prison out in the tundra.”

Blake sat back and crossed her arms, seeing the crux of his sales pitch and not loving it. “But if I help you, you’ll protect me?”

“If you don't I won't be able to whether I want to or not. But if you help me, I can and will protect you. My agents have certain immunities as part of their positions, and no one besides your handler and myself will know the truth of your identity once we instate you. A story will be circulated that Blake Belladonna escaped custody, and that will be that.”

Blake rubbed her eyes while a storm of emotions raged through her. On one hand, it was certainly better than jail, on the other she would be torn from her life, again, to start over, again. Alone, again. It was almost enough to make her refuse, but she didn't exactly have a wealth of good options. 

“Blake,” the director began when he saw her hesitation. “I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to clear your name. I can’t promise anything, but-“

“I’ll do it.”

“I…are you sure?” he asked, surprised at her sudden acquiescence. “You understand that I’m asking you to leave everything, and everyone, behind. Even those you seek to protect. Even Yang.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes if it means I have a chance of...of coming back. I'm not sure she would even want to see me right now after everything, but I doubt I would see her at all from the inside of a prison cell,” Blake said, hanging her head. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Ozpin regarded her with tired eyes. It felt to Blake like he was looking not at her but through her, reading her every thought and fear from past, present, and future; weighing her, judging her. Behind it all was something else, something that looked to Blake a lot like regret, or perhaps guilt. Then the look was gone, and he was just a weary bureaucrat moving another piece on the board in his long battle against the forces working to tear society apart. “We’ve compiled a shortlist of the White Fang's possible targets, you’ll be sent to the most likely to meet with an agent we already have in place. When can you be ready to depart?”

Blake took a steadying breath, preparing herself to leave everything behind for the third time. It was almost becoming old hat. “No time like the present.”

And just like that, Blake Belladonna agreed to do what she did best. The only thing, she feared, she would ever be good at.

Vanish.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you made it all the way here! First of all, thank you so much! This is the longest thing I've ever written in my life, so for anyone to stick with it all the way to the end is beyond amazing. Second: I am so sorry for this ending. I swear it was not my intention when I started, but it's so hard to avoid the pull of the Fall of Beacon. Good news though, in case you didn't catch the bold text at the end, I'm not done with this version of Blake and Yang (and all the rest) yet! So hopefully some of you brave readers will come back for the sequel that will (with any luck) have a slightly more pleasant ending.
> 
> Then again, who knows? These characters seem to have their own ideas of how things will turn out.
> 
> Anyway, thanks again!


End file.
